In the quadrum of Aprimay, three corpses were found within the northern mountain range. Their possessions and clothing suggest that they used to be caravan folk. With one of them, a journal was found. Out of respect for the deceased, the investigating personell would usually not delve into private belongings, but the cover of the journal had been marked with red letters before the owner finally succumbed to the mountain cold. "Read this when you find me."
There is a myth among the caravan folk. Few will ever truthfully claim to know its origin, but it lives and thrives among our people, spreading through rumor and superstition. Anyone who has shared enough nights around the cramped caravan campfire knows what I speak of. The mad cannibal. I am writing this because I am afraid the myth has finally shed its deceitful shell of unsettling yet exciting campfire rumor and has become as real as flesh and bone. What I am saying is, I believe I have met them. And it is because of them that I will die here. So I hope that whoever eventually unearths my remains may find this and allow themselves the curiosity to read, to learn and to understand what exactly it is that has happened to me. My time is limited, alas not as limited as I'd prefer. Finding myself stuck with the impossible decision between starvation and the endless cold, my days are numbered, though it is on me to decide that number. As cruel a fate as this is, it allows me the time to give you all that I have.
It seems to surprise people when they learn that handling a trade caravan is a terribly mundane task. Stories of ambushes, drawn out battles with bloodthirsty bandits or starved predators spread like wildfire, yet apart from the occasional illness or broken wheel, there are few things disrupting the peaceful dullness of riding with a caravan. In my years I have witnessed two ambushes and both were a few drugged-up lowlifes who on another day I may have regarded with empathy as poverty-stricken village kids. Believe me, there are few things exciting about endlessly traveling between settlements, exchanging goods for coin and heading back. It is quite boring, but also lonely. And I loved it. Constantly being on the road brings with it the strange quality of seeing so much of the world, while never actually arriving anywhere. In my time I must have seen close to 100 settlements, some grand and impressive, others shoddy and shaken and pitiful. None that ever connected with me. None that ever made me want to stay or care. I was happy in the small wagon with the other lonesome souls and the few pack animals out on the road. Coming from somewhere. Going towards something. Never actually being anywhere.
It must have been after my third or fourth trip that I finally gave up that small abode in the village where I was born. I picked up this job as nothing more than a petty distraction, but even during my first trip I could just not deny feeling so much more than I had anticipated. And returning to your old life after months on the road, it's just not the same. With every trip gone by the time until that feeling of normality returned increased, until eventually it never came back at all. There was no denying it - I had finally found my place in the world. And it was not the cramped room above a bar at the edge of some village I never liked, it was not tilling fields that were not mine, serving beer to strangers that I did not enjoy or crafting arrows for a bow when I did not even know how to fire it. No. It was the vast, lonely freedom of the road. Where the past had never happened and the future never would.
It is a peculiar way of life and it attracts like-minded folks. Lonely drifters with few ties and even fewer responsibilities. There are not many in this line of work that have family or any real friends to speak of. And that makes for pretty shoddy conversation. I learned quickly, even before I abandoned my home, that on the road people do not like to speak - a quality which I had no issue with. But it was when the sun had set behind the great plains and the night shrouded the land in darkness and unknowing, that those who had been quiet all day would finally open their mouths to share the rumors and tales that they had absorbed. Loosened by what little alcohol or herb we carried for ourselves, in the evening hours I would witness these people suddenly begin to smile and talk and share their stories and thoughts. Although no one ever strayed too far from anything caravan-related. They knew better.
It must have been in one of those evening rounds, presumably on one of my earlier trade hauls where I heard the story for the first time. There were many like it, often unsettling and surely misremembered or wildly exaggerated, but the dreadful tale of the mad cannibal was different. When the old man across from me began speaking of the ice sheet up north and asked if any had not heard the story of the mad cannibal I watched the playful cheeriness drain from the faces around me. Few remained as before, mine sure did, for I had not the first idea what the man was talking about. He must have noticed and with a look I could not quite categorize, he began talking.
Nobody knows who first saw or heard them, he said, but it must have been on one of the first trade hauls on the "expanded route". Many decades ago, the traders alliance had decided to expand their network and include some of the more remote settlements - like Ferest, one of the fishing villages far up north. Ever since the great storm had buried large parts of the main road under debris and ice, they had been cut off, locked in by a range of sharp mountains on one side and the frozen sea on the other. But the alliance wanted to change that and after a few months of planning, a new route was declared. It kept mostly to the original path - the most interesting part was the two-day detour to bypass that part of the road that had been blocked and destroyed. It led straight over the ice sheet, a cold and desolate plain for the most part, ravaged all year by terrible icy storms that would block all vision. Navigation was only possible by keeping an eye on the sharp black mountaintops, ever so slightly visible towards the land side. Somewhere within that jagged range was a mountain pass that led, on the other side, to the fishing village. Surely an extreme scenario when it came to weather, but most experienced caravan handlers had survived worse. They had braved the scorching summer desert of Lakan or the occasional snow storm in some other desolate place up north. It was an acceptable risk. This paired with the increased financial incentive offered to those first braving the new route and expanding the reach of the alliance made for optimal conditions. Those who knew their trade had little reason not to sign up and so in rapid succession several caravans crossed the ice sheet and made their way through the new route.
It went well for quite some time, so he told. The weather was no issue for those equipped with the knowledge and apparel to deal with it and the rough road could hardly compare to some of the even more unforgiving terrain many had already witnessed. No, it was easily acquired income for many. And it must have been on one of those trips that the first sightings happened. The man across the campfire explained, that it is unclear who or even how many reported these sightings, but in that lack of clarity lies the issue. It is not unlikely for someone on a caravan to go insane, to suffer some form of mental break and see things that are not truly there - tell tales of marvel and wonder or terror and confusion. In fact it is believed many of the more interesting campfire stories sprouted from the fantasy of some poor rambling fool. But the fact that nobody was able to pin down who started the myth of the cannibal, who was merely reciting what they had heard and who spoke of encounters they genuinely believed to have witnessed, made it hard to discard it as just some madman's rambling. It gave it a strange sense of authority. It was not helped by the fact that the tales many spoke of started to overlap and intersect, as if they had made the same experience at entirely different points in time. They spoke of strange noises on their journey, a piping in the wind or the sound of heavy breathing right behind them. Some say they saw a silhouette in the snow storm, a tall, thin figure watching them from the distance. Others claim they were approached on the mountain by an old man with a long, withered beard who beheld them with a look of strange intensity and oppressiveness. Then some claim, he would smile, not in a friendly way, rather like a preying animal, before being swallowed again by the snowstorm. Some even said they felt him calling to them.
These accounts were frightening and surely made for great horror stories to share with those soon to cross the ice sheet, but rarely more. That was, the man said, until the caravan of Eila Lewin and her brother Marik. I was surprised for a moment when he mentioned their names, for I had heard of them before. They had been a strange pair, on the road together for decades, perhaps a bit of a legend themselves. What I had not learned yet was their fate. As he told it, their caravan, a large group of no less than 16 people were sent on a routine trip to Ferest, but never arrived. The alliance sent scouts after them only a few days later and what they found has been echoed through time from that day on. The scouts found the caravan atop the mountain pass, intact with all wagons just standing there. At first glance it hardly appeared as if anything had happened at all, but as they came closer a terrible scenery unveiled itself.
The first thing they saw was one of the animals, a yak, standing next to a wagon and nibbling on something in the snow. A body - or rather what was left of it. The corpse they found was so mangled and destroyed, they could not even identify if it was a mans or a womans body. Stomach torn open in a gruesome fashion, neck and face ripped apart. In no time the scouts found more dead bodies, strewn around outside the wagons and all of them looked just like the first one. They had large parts of their flesh missing, sometimes entire body parts, often the faces. It appeared as if they had been torn off, ripped from their bones ruthlessly. There was nothing suggesting the use of tools or a knife, no cuts or incisions, rather as if something or someone had just torn the flesh from the bone, the muscle from the tendons, the eyes from the sockets. Animal attacks were out of the question, for there was just no animal that would leave these kinds of marks, especially up here, on the ice sheet. The scouts quickly left behind what they found outside and turned to look inside the wagons. Perhaps some of them were still alive, holed up and waiting for rescue.
No. Inside the wagons the scenery was so much worse. Many were just empty, but there was one were the desecrated bodies of the caravan people were practically piled on top of each other. Blood stained everything inside the wagon, the wares, the floor, the walls. Body parts, loose chunks of flesh and muscle, bones and little frozen clots of blood, all strewn around next to the destroyed corpses of the people they belonged to. Some had their chests torn open, some had their intestines removed, almost all had big chunks of their arms and legs missing, leaving behind bloodied, ugly holes. There was one man whose eyes were still intact and through a bloodied grimace he stared at the scouts in cold, dead terror.
Word of the grotesque scene made its way around the nearby settlements quickly and the alliance gave it their best efforts to suppress them. After all, money was on the line. The human lives lost in the mountains were little more than a bargaining chip, worth some amount of coin depending on how much this horror story would spread. So it was quickly lost in a haze of confusion and misinformation until the population widely regarded it as a myth. The myth of the mad cannibal, who lives on the ice sheet and preys of those who pass. Little more than a scary tale to tell to your kids. But around the campfires of the caravan people this tale had a different feel to it. Some may still regard it as just the ramblings of drunkards or lunatics, but it appears that many think differently about it.
The route over the ice sheet was closed indefinitely, though a different reason was named publicly, of course. Luckily for them, the alliance had no issues dealing with any of the deaths, as us lonely drifters have no one to look for us when we go missing. Still, losing a whole crew and almost the shipment to some crazed mountain beast was apparently incentive enough for them to invest into repairing the road. It took a few months, a huge financial loss, but it seems the alliance found it worthwhile. Not worthwhile enough to go searching for the corpses they never found though, but that's just what it is. "Carried off by the beast", they told us. "It had always been a group of 14", they told the public. After that for years, trades continued as normal. To this day no one had dared or deemed it important enough to look into what had truly happened on that mountain pass.
There the man concluded his tale and from the muted reactions around me I could tell that many saw within this tale more than a mere horror story. I sensed a tension in the air that felt quite alien to me. The mundane tranquility of the caravan had been broken. Few words were spoken before we all retired and the images that had crept into my mind haunted me all night. But with the rising of the morning sun and the promise of a new day on the road, quickly the imagery of terror faded and my life returned to the quiet predictability that I had grown to love so much. I did think of the cannibal again. Here and there the thought would pop into my head and at some point during my career I even heard the tale again, retold a little differently, but being accustomed to it now the shock did not grasp me the way it did before. The myth was now a part of my life as a caravan handler.
It would have stayed that way, I'm sure, had it not been for that terrible storm a few months ago. For years the main road upwards to the icy oceans and its many villages, Ferest and her brothers and sisters, had held firmly and supplied the alliance with a never before seen amount of trade, both in quantity and quality. Fine wares and even finer payments, hauled across the land day by day. That made the ambushes increase slightly in their amount and intensity, but the newfound resources meant the alliance could finally afford increased security. Some of us now held rifles, our blades were sharper and sturdier and while I never got to use either, I felt safer knowing our equipment was in good shape. Any brigand would surely know this and even if they did not, they would learn quickly. Everything was working out, quality of life and labor increasing steadily and predictably. But all that changed when the storm hit. It was not even particularly bad - previous ones had hit the land in much more critical places, washing out fields and damaging villages with lighting strikes and falling trees. This one, while just as intense if not more, had decided to bring down its fury somewhere in the mountains and so it was more a spectacle than a threat. It was when we heard the rumbling, that we understood something more must have happened.
Soon we had our suspicions confirmed. I was stationed in Exhem at the time, one of the many villages close to the mountain belt and watched as one of the caravans sent out just days before, returned to us with all their animals still loaded and the handlers visibly upset. It had happened again. A barrage of rubble, stone and ice had swept down from one of the mountaintops and buried part of the road, precisely that part of the road which had been hit before. It seemed almost too outlandish to believe, but true it was all the same. The alliance member who was calling the shots at the Exhem post, a young woman by the name of Stilton, appeared immensely frustrated with the news and having been part of the team for so long it was no surprise to me. This was no longer about that single shipment; with this trade route compromised all the expansion of the previous years was now in danger and even worse, the whole alliance might lose sustainability over this. To be honest, I think we all knew that. And so it was that the old detour was swiftly and quietly reinstated and it was then that I first thought of them again. The cannibal. I remembered why that route had been closed in the first place and looking around I was uncertain if anyone beside me shared that knowledge. Even Stilton seemed to have no idea of the myths that had been told of that route ever since its closure. Or perhaps she just knew not to speak of it.
I was hardly surprised when she assigned me to go along with the group. I find it hard to explain this sensation, but the moment she mentioned we would fall back on the route across the ice sheet I just knew I would be one of the first to go. Not that I wanted. I was looking forward to the taiga trip I had signed up for, but this was just the way it had to be. There was no confusion or questioning when I picked up my gear, loaded my bag and joined the others at their wagons - I was meant to go on this trip. I was meant to cross the ice sheet with them.
It began like any other tour. Given our comparatively small load and the increasing demand for workers our troupe was limited to seven people. But with two rifles and my years of experience I felt safe enough. Looking back I think I would have felt even safer without the rifles, although in the moment I could not explain that. We traveled the road until we reached the new blockade and truly its size had not been exaggerated. The amount of rubble that had swept down the mountain was staggering. It would take a well-trained crew months to remove all this debris. It was as if someone had deliberately tried to prevent anyone from travelling the road normally, with all their might. There was no way anyone was making their way through that, let alone a caravan with carts and animals. So we made our way off the road. The canyon we passed through sheltered us from the snowstorms for quite some times, but when we finally made it onto the barren plains of ice, the howling wind and the icy thorns it carried cut through my face no matter which way I looked. Any description I had heard of this place had been accurate, the black jagged mountaintops guided us, but where we were, between them and the icy sea, there was nothing at all. Nothing but the cold, the storm and the constant howling.
It took me a while to notice the music in the wind. The wind's howl would shift in pitch ever so often, would change in its volume and intensity and after a while I was stunned to recognize a melody beneath it. There was this faint piping tune, somewhere underneath the howling of the storm, somewhere underneath the noise of the wagon wheels crashing against the uneven surface, somewhere underneath the shivering of my bones. There was strange music in this place. I looked around, tried to see if any of my companions were playing, maybe trying to brighten the mood, but they too were hidden inside their parkas and hoods, wrapped in clothing to shield them from the cold. Nobody was playing. Of course not.
We made it to the peak of the mountain pass the very same day. I was surprised that we had come this far in such short time, but now that we had made it we were stuck on that peak with the sun going down. The storm was even stronger up here and the others had already brought the three wagons into a triangular formation, so they may give us some shelter from the wind in its center. A small campfire was crackling in the middle and a few people were huddled around it. I joined them quickly, for warmth more than for companionship and the lack of any shared stories or anecdotes gave me the feeling that the others had the same idea. We just sat there. It was obvious none of us were quite as comfortable as we would like to be, but the bravely blazing flames in our midst kept us glued there, a small refuge from the frozen wastes around as. At least for as long as it was still going.
Eventually the sun set behind the icy black sea to our west. There was no actual way to see the sun setting through the thick whirling snowstorm, but the light around us slowly faded until the glimmering fire was all that was left to illuminate the faces and bodies of those around it. We let it burn out and one by one we retired to the carts, hoping to find the protective arms of sleep quickly, where we could not feel the cold and live in our world of dreams until the next morning brought back the light and the warmth.
I shared my wagon with Ariana, a stranger. I had not met her before on any of the other trips so spending the night with her in the cramped interior of our cargo wagons was not a comfortable prospect, but compared to the outside it felt almost luxurious. So I fell asleep rather quickly, seeking my escape from the cold and discomfort all around me. In my dreams I found myself wandering the icy plains we had just crossed. I pierced the endless veils of snow and ice, thrown around by the howling wind, traversed the infinite plains in their entirety. It was an almost serene experience, peaceful. But then I heard that music again. It began quietly, a hint of melody somewhere in the howling of the storm, but I could not pretend I did not hear it. I recognized it instantly.
So I followed. Blinded by the snow I did not know where exactly I was going, but I stumbled my way ever closer to the source of that sound. That wondrous, terrible music. I can not remember when exactly I noticed that it scared me. When I had heard it before in the caravan, I had felt nothing special at all, I just found it strange. Now I was terrified. Something about those soothing piping sounds, their dreadful tranquility, was just so terribly wrong. And yet I moved closer. The only thing more intense that my fear at that moment must have been my excitement and curiosity. I just had to know. Had to know what made that sound. And what about it made me feel so powerless.
Without even noticing I had scaled the mountain. The same mountain my caravan was sleeping on. But in my dream no one was there. The little landing near the steep cliff face was clear of any intruders, the snow untouched by human and animal alike. The music was the loudest here, though strangely enough it barely felt as if it had grown in volume at all. Rather in its intensity. As if the vibrations it sent through the whirling snow, through the empty plains were much stronger up here and I could feel them. I looked around, searching for the source and it was not long before I saw him. Although that is not quite right, I feel. I did not see him until much later, but I was aware of his presence right from that moment. Felt it in the music, felt him come closer. He had been waiting in the snowstorm. Waiting for me to scale the mountain. And now he came towards me.
When I finally saw his silhouette approach through the wall of snow the music faded quickly. Suddenly everything was quiet. Just the murmur of the storm surrounding me and this stranger. He was tall and thin, wrapped in a robe of some sort, a faded royal blue. Both his hands and feet were bare, exposed to the snow, but it did not seem to bother him. His skin was grey and weather-beaten. A long, scraggly beard fell from his otherwise hairless face, his eyes beheld me with an intense expression and their color matched that of his robe perfectly. He looked directly at me as he came closer. I think I was scared. I think I was shaking. But it was not the cold, no, I felt warm. Warmer than I had on any of the past days for sure. No, I was shaking with fear and a strange excitement. Something about this man seemed so strangely familiar. Nothing about his face or clothes or even his expression, no, but the energy within him seemed as old as time. So obviously familiar to me, that I almost felt shameful now that I had not recognized it sooner. He stood right before me, a good two meters between us, and still he beheld me with those eyes of ice. I knew what would happen next.
Not breaking eye contact he raised his spindly arm, so the robe slid back, revealing the grey skin. He brought it up to his face and with no hesitation he sank his teeth into his flesh. Immediately cherry-red blood poured from the torn wound, flowing forth and down his arm into the undisturbed snow beneath us. His eyes called to me and I did what they asked. With my left hand I slowly pulled back the cloth covering my right arm, all the way, exposing it to the cold and the snow. I felt warm. Not hot, just comfortable. Peaceful. I watched as the man tore the chunk of flesh from his arm, watched the tendons snap and the blood trickle down onto him, before he finally closed his mouth around it and swallowed it whole. His teeth were tainted red and his face was wild. I let no time pass. I felt my teeth pierce my skin and the pain it caused me was like nothing I had felt before. My entire arm, from the elbow to my hand was searing white pain. But I did not stop. Blood squirting from beneath my teeth, I tore and yanked and eventually freed the chunk from my skin. I screamed, through my closed teeth with such a screeching affect that I felt it through my entire throat. A searing white agony radiated through my arm. I powered through. I know I had to. So I chewed for a moment, savored the strange, wonderful taste and swallowed.
I awoke to screaming. Terrified I looked around. The pain in my arm had subsided, but for just a moment I want to check if what I had dreamt was real. Looking down I saw my arm, intact and covered by my anorak, but covered in a dark liquid. Coated in it. Part of me then knew it was blood. I think that part even knew whose it was. But I didn't or at least I did not want to know or believe, I was terrified. I heard the screaming again. It was one of the caravan-men, outside by our fireplace. The squeals he made sounded terrible, tortured. I jumped out of my wagon to see what was going on. There was chaos out there. I saw the screaming man in the middle of our formation, over the burnt-out remains of last nights fire. Next to him two people lied face-down in the snow. Even from where I was standing and with all the layers of clothes they were wearing, I could tell their bodies were mangled and deformed. The same was true for the screaming man. His left hand was entirely missing and from his opened jacket flowed forth a spill of bright red blood, tainting the snow beneath it.
"What happened?" I heard a panicked voice and turned to see one of the other caravan-folk rush to the man on the ground. He was just now taking in the situation and was clearly in a panic, gasping. The dismembered man did not stop screaming, wailing in his consuming, gruesome pain. "What happened to you?" the other asked again, looking around at the corpses, then back at the man. But the man was not able to produce more than a gurgling sound. His desperate hand clutched the face of the other, smearing his blood all over it. He gurgled but he could not speak. Then he saw me, standing behind the other one, and shakily he took his hand of his face. His face sunk and for a moment the pain disappeared, as it was swallowed by an emotion even more intense. Utter, horrid fear. He pointed at me and screamed. The other one quickly turned around, followed the outstretched finger, but relaxed when he saw it was only me. He hastily got up, wanted to ask me something it seems, but as he looked me up and down he quickly choked back the words he had. Instead he asked me something else, his voice now shaky. Uneasy. Confused.
"Why do you have Arianas rifle?"
Looking down I saw her rifle in my hand. I knew it was loaded. "I dont know" I stammered as I pointed it at his stomach and pulled the trigger. A crackling shot tore through the icy wasteland, before being choked out by the storms howling. The scream that followed was terrible. Guttural wails of agony and approaching demise. He had trusted me. The part of me that still felt, still acted on my own accord, was terrified. But it was no use. My role in this was clear to me. I knew what had to be done.
The calculations happened without me even thinking. Two of us down near the fireplace plus two more just now. Absent-mindedly I wandered back to the wagon that I had stepped out of and peered inside just to be certain. Sure enough, Arianas brutalized corpse was still there, lifeless and desecrated, blood pooling and staining the boards beneath her, draining away into the endless snow below. Now it was just one left. Knowing which wagon I had dragged the two other corpses out of made it easy, now only one remained. With my rifle raised I approached the hiding place of my final victim. There was no sound beside the constant droning of the snowstorm. Either the man was still inside, biding his time, hoping to get the drop on me or just wait it out... or he had fled into the snowstorm? It mattered little to me, although I felt that part of me preferred the former option. Without warning a loud crackling sound rang out and a bullet tore through the coach door before me, missing my arm just barely. "Stay back" came an unsteady voice from within, "My rifle's fully loaded and I'm not afraid to kill you!"
He was bluffing, no doubt, but even so, the risk of engaging this man on his own terms appeared senseless to me. To some part of me. A hunt is not a hunt if the victim gets a fair chance. At least it's not a hunt one should participate in. "It's me!" I shouted back at him, trying my hardest to mask the ever increasing wildness in my voice, "I killed him!". I almost felt disgusted with myself. So warm and friendly and reassuring, I was killing my role. And to what end?
He did not buy it anyway. Screamed back at me with fury that he heard what had been said before the gunshots. That he knew it was me. So that I had to come up with something different. I thought about just peppering the cart with my rifle until I heard screaming. But in the end I just used some of the fuel we had loaded to set the whole thing ablaze. When he eventually emerged from his hiding place, all charred and burnt and screaming, I did not even need the rifle to kill him. Just pushed him down into the snow and tore out his jugular. His eyes, his cheeks, his heart. Tore apart everything until he was no longer recognizable. And then I ate. Enjoyed every last bit of my kill. Sat there, fat and filled and content, like a spider in its web. The others would last me a few more days too.
I do not know how much time I spent in that destroyed camp among the eviscerated bodies of my companions. I do not know what exactly I did to them, how much I ate, how much I shivered and shook and screamed in anticipation and ecstasy. But the rush wore off eventually. That part of me that had been terrified and disgusted all this time was finally getting louder again and reminded me of who I was. Or who I used to be. It was so obvious that I had changed, although it was hard to describe in what way. That cruel, hungry, devastating energy within me, it hardly felt unfamiliar, but some part of me still knew that it had not always been this way. But what had changed, what exactly had happened and when, I was not able to say. It mattered little, for now it was I that was hunted. Not by beast or human, but simply by the elements. My resources had run out, my grotesque feast had finally come to an end and I was in desperate need of shelter. The animals had left long ago and I was in no shape, physically or mentally to just return to the world I had left behind. No, I could never do that. So I began moving.
As I left the campsite and marched slowly towards one of the mountain-tops I believe I heard a cruel laughter in the wind. It was hard to tell apart from the howling, but I'm sure of it. And despite not seeing him, I knew exactly who it was. And he was laughing and laughing as if the greatest theatre had just taken place. I am not sure for how long I wandered, but it could not have been more than one or maybe two hours. The biting cold was almost too much to handle and had I not found that cave in time, I surely would have frozen to death where I had been standing.
There in that black maw in the middle of the icy wastes the laughter was echoing the loudest and with such an intensity that for a few moments I was sure it would cause the entrance to collapse. But then, as I set my foot over the threshold it ebbed and ended quickly. I lit the lantern I had brought along and slowly, carefully made my way inside the cave. It was here, in the middle of nowhere, somewhere among the pitch-black mountain tops that I found the solution to a mystery that had haunted me and many more for so long. Not far from the entrance, in a little crevice I found them. Next to a few empty boxes of rations and a burnt out torch lay dead Eila and Marik Lewin. The two missing bodies from their caravan, here in the mountain tomb. Preserved by the endless cold, it almost appeared as if they were simply dreaming. Nothing that I could see in the dim light suggested the use of force or violence, no their lifeless bodies had an almost peaceful quality. But there was blood. Blood on their hands, under their fingernails and a thick layer of dark muddy red along with chunks of what I can only assume was loose flesh around their mouths. Surely not their blood at all.
So I sat down next to them. Next to these two strangers who too must have met the cannibal of the ice sheet. Who too must have heard the piping flute and the cruel laughter. Who too must have torn off their own flesh in a pact they never truly understood nor its implications they comprehended.
It is here, next to my brother and sister that I will find my end. The cold gnaws on me and I can only hope that my next slumber will bring a swift and peaceful end. And I hope that whoever finds this is smart enough to not follow the ominous tunes, to not dream the dreams of violence and death, to not wander the endless wastes at night. If my journey brings anything of value I hope it is the understanding that no human should ever cross the ice sheet again.
Farewell.

While my manuscript is with my alpha reader, I thought I would work on my query letter. This sub was amazingly helpful while querying my first manuscript and any thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Thank you in advance!
Dear AGENT,
Seven crime writers. One dead body. A murderer among them.
THE CLOAK AND DAGGER CLUB is my adult historical mystery standalone, complete at 89,000 words. It’s inspired by the Detection Club, a real-life organization whose members have included Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers. My manuscript pays homage to the mystery tradition and features mixed media elements, including short book-within-a-book excerpts. It will appeal to fans of Nicola Upson’s JOSEPHINE TEY MYSTERIES or Colleen Cambridge’s PHYLLIDA BRIGHT MYSTERIES.
London, 1930. Introverted author Lucy Hubbard receives an invitation to the Cloak and Dagger Club, an exclusive society for British mystery writers. Lucy’s curiosity and career aspirations compel her to accept, though she wonders why a debut novelist like herself was invited. Also in the club is Lucy’s ex, Frank Murray, whom she hasn’t seen since their break-up three years ago. Lucy hopes that the two of them can start anew, but seeing Frank again brings back feelings she's tried to bury.
The club members prove as enigmatic as they are gifted, and they all have secrets. When the club’s tyrannical president receives a literal knife in his back, a recent conflict with Frank makes him the prime suspect. Despite their previous estrangement, Lucy can’t fathom Frank being a killer and agrees to help prove his innocence. Channeling all she knows from crime fiction, Lucy uncovers the hidden animosities within the Cloak and Dagger Club, including secrets someone will kill to keep. Digging deeper sets Lucy in the murderer’s sights and makes her wonder if she can trust anyone—even Frank.
I graduated from SCHOOL NAME with a degree in English with a Creative Writing Concentration and currently work as a marketing copywriter. I am an active member of the Mystery Writers of America and frequently post writing updates on my YouTube channel. A short story related to this manuscript was published in MALICE DOMESTIC: MYSTERY MOST DEVIOUS.
Thank you for your time and consideration.

This is a list contains all the fan-made stories posted on the Creepcast Sub-Reddit. This is meant for ease of access and review (original idea by u/Makijuiko2). I hope that it helps you too. I will try to update the list if a new version of a story come out. I will, of course, add new stories submitted to the Sub - as long as they are independent posts. Let me know if I have missed any!
I have taken it upon myself to give feedback to as many stories as I can, as quickly as I can. If I haven't given feedback on your story and you would like the feedback sooner rather than later then let me know and I will try to prioritise it.
Any help is very appreciated.
Note: This page will only contain stories that have been posted on this Sub as independent posts. The only exceptions are those with different parts that are on separate Subs or alternative presentations of the story (audiobook, animation, etc.). If you have written or noticed a story that has these exceptions that hasn't been listed, then please let me know.
Tags:
(Highly Rated) These stories have been well received on the Sub and this sub only (for the sake of ease and fairness). 25 upvotes or more.
(Visual) This story has visual media to accompany the text.
(Long) Self explanatory; stories that take a while to read (<30mins approx).
(Multi-Part) Story is split into multiple parts.
(NSFW) This story contains elements, imagery or writing, considered mature – this is usually made clear by the author.
(Parody) This story contains characters, locations or items directly referenced from episodes of Creepcast – as opposed to an original story.
(Poem) This story is written in poetic form.
(Short) Self explanatory; stories that consist of four (approx.) or less paragraphs.
(True Story) These stories are, by the author's admission, true – please correct if it is simply for dramatic effect.
(No Feedback) This story has not had any feedback given to the writer.
(Warning: example) This is a special tag that will include a warning that I make about the story that does not fit into any other category.

Stories:

A

A breath down my neck by u/Sufficient_While-102
Intro: A breath down my neck ( intro :
A predator admires his most recent prey.
(Multi-Part)(Short)

B

Backroad by u/Crowmudgeon
Backroad - Google Docs
https://youtu.be/2LXsqTcq0OM?si=SOufIPD6twzV4Em4 – Audio version read by the author.
Beware driving at the roads at night, for you may well find yourself racing death itself.
(Long)
'Bit of a meme I made from a recently posted pic from here' by u/Prestigious_Low8243
Bit of a meme I made from a recently posted pic from here :
Familiar faces hit headlines as a deadly cult is crushed.
(Highly Rated)(Visual)(Parody)(Short)
Borrasca: Eye To Eye by u/Jade-the-Tiefling
Part 1: Borrasca: Eye To Eye. (Part 1) :
(Not read yet)
(Long)(Multi-Part)(Parody? more of a fan-fiction)(No Feedback)

C

Carnival by u/Lucky_Burger
The Carnival.docx - Google Drive
A battle royal in a supernatural fairground; a fight for survival for some, entertainment for others.
(Long)
Chatterbox by u/Zodiac72826
Chatterbox (OC Short Horror Story) :
A green menace turns a rural backwater into chaos, and the rattle you need to listen out for doesn't come from the snake.
Chunks by u/SophistsLament
Chunks :
Jars of mysterious flesh buried like Coptic jars, but what or who do they come from? (True Story)
Contract of Service by u/Geng4rrr
Contract of Service :
It pays to read the small print – who knows what web of exploitation you might fall into?
(NSFW)

D

The Day I Met Mr. Wellers by u/No-Figure-8676
The Day I Met Mr. Wellers :
(Not read yet)
(Parody)(No Feedback)
Don't go to Nebraska by u/Y0u_G0t_Sum
Don’t go to Nebraska :
Perfect little families have perfect little skeletons in their closets.
Doorbell Inside by u/we1rdtuesday
Doorbell inside (true story) :
The perfect holiday is ruined by a late-night anomaly.
(Visual)(True Story)
Dr. Wellers Monster by u/RedheadedRifleman
Dr. Wellers Monster :
(Not read yet)
(Long)(Parody)

G

The Gentle Man by u/ednamold
The Gentle Man :
A mysterious, classy man is forced to face his most lurid secrets in this familiarly named 'club'.
(NSFW)(Parody)

I

I found some notes from a detective about a case that has yet to be solved by u/ConfusionDry2084
I found some notes from a detective about a case that has yet to be solved :
(Not read yet)
(True Story apparently?)(No Feedback)
I look at it in the reflection. It stares back. by u/Doomdweller
Part 1: I look at it in the reflection. It stares back. (I got really inspired and wrote a little something for no sleep) :
Part 2: I look at it in the reflection. I stares back. :
Part 3: I look at it in the reflection. It stares back. :
An imaginary friend becomes an unwanted presence, every polished surface a source of fear.
(Long)(Multi-Part)(Warning: By the writer's own admission, English is not their first language, however this makes some lines very hard to read)
I think I picked up the wrong person by u/S-CSleepwalker
I think I picked up the wrong person :
What is more nerve racking: The thought of picking up a stranger, or picking up someone who isn't as much of a stranger as you thought?

L

Leave by u/Mateba6
I got inspired to write a short story :
Unawareness is a prison.
(Short)
The Locust Man by u/Fun-Yogurtcloset521
Part 1: The Locust Man :
A group of friends, in their childish curiosity, explore the wilderness – the territory of a local legend.
(Long)(Multi-Part)(Warning: Reddit formatting has not be kind on this story, as such it is currently quite hard to read)

M

Mr. Allsing's Tales by u/Banana_Firm
Mr. Allsing's Tales - Google Docs
(Not read yet) Anthology (Long)(No Feedback)(NSFW)
Mr. Weller – A Short Story by u/AromaticCedar
Mr. Weller - A Short Story :
(Not read yet)
(Highly Rated)(Parody)(No Feedback)
Mr. Weller's Clinic by u/otay007
Part 1: Mr. Weller’s Clinic :
You can run, but sometimes we must all donate to destiny.
(Multi-Part)(Parody)
The Mall Of Fears and Phobias by u/thelfgamer31
Vol. 1: The Mall Of Fears and Phobias Vol. 1 - thelfgamer31 - Wattpad
This is a mall where you'll need to purchase your life with vigilance.
(Multi-Part)

N

The Night of The Blood Moon by u/4d5ACP
The Night of The Blood Moon :
Hunter becomes the hunted in this moonlit chase.

P

The Poolhouse in Weinwick, Oregon by u/Open_Revolution_3855
The Poolhouse in Weinwick, Oregon - Creepypasta
(Not read yet) (Long)

S

'Scary ass sleep paralysis' by u/Desperate_Big857
Scary ass sleep paralysis :
Sometimes the mind is scarier than the 'ass'.
(Short)(True Story)
Shrine to the Centipede God by u/Kaax_Itzam
Shrine to the Centipede God :
Shrine to the Centipede God by Kai Barkla eBook Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com) – ebook format
A tapping from a quiet underworld. A mural, cast from the subconscious of an irresistible myth.
(No Feedback)
Somewhere creepy in Meatland... by u/LongjumpingCry7
Part 1: Somewhere creepy in Meatland… (Part I) :
(Not read yet)
(Multi-Part)(Parody)
Sunny Smiles Daycare by u/Solupotsongana
Part 1: Sunny Smiles Daycare (pt. 1) :
(Not read yet)
(Long)(Multi-Part)(No Feedback)

U

Unnamed short story by u/Saggy_tits_omnomnom (thanks for making me write that)
Part 1: I'm in the process of writing a short novel figured yall might like this :
(Not read yet)
(Long)(Multi-Part)(No Feedback)

W

'Weird Video I Found?' by u/TRexy225
Part 1: Weird Video That I Found? Pt 1 :
(Not read yet)
(Multi-Part)(Parody)(No Feedback)
'When I was in high school I saw something I can't explain. Yesterday I returned to where it happened.' by a deleted user.
When I was in high school I saw something I can't explain. Yesterday I returned to where it happened. :
An unnerving memory forces a sombre return to the scene of the sighting.

Prior to the start of Round 3
Arthur grunted as he tightened the straps of his shield around his arm, the King was currently alone in his waiting room, making the final preparations before his match started. The prior few days had been spent researching his upcoming foe, Nezha with Melin. But beyond learning that his opponent also carried more than one Divine Weapon, and apparently had access to a so-called,"Three Heads, Six Arm form". There wasn't much else to be found.
Picking up Excalibur as he glanced down at his attire to ensure that everything was properly secured and in place for the umpteenth time.
"I know you're hiding behind those doors, just come in already…" The King suddenly spoke, seemingly to no one in particular as he took a hold of his crown and placed it atop his forehead, before turning to face the double doors leading into the room, "Lancelot…"
As he said this, the doors slowly creaked open and the aforementioned knight slowly peaked his head inside, his face a mixture of nervous fear and embarrassment.
"H-how long did you know I was there?" Lancelot asked nervously.
"From the very start," Arthur answered, "I could hear your muttering and mumbling whilst you paced to and fro, twiddling your thumbs."
"I…See."
This was followed by a minute or two of awkward silence between the two former friends, before Arthur broke that silence, "Well? Do you not have something to say to me then? Stop fiddling about and get in here."
Tentatively, Lancelot stepped into the room, "So, you're going up next I believe? How's the preparations for your match?"
"Definitely could be better, " Arthur sighed heavily as he poured himself and Lancelot a drink each, "The god I'm up against seems to be quite the fighter, but I can handle him no problem at all, anyways, beer?"
"W-well, good to know that you've got it all figured out as usual, Arthur… Uh I'll pass for the beer though." Lancelot said, as he politely declined the offer.
Arthur shrugged, "One last drink for the road then," He said before downing the entire glass, "Well, if that is all you have to say Lancelot, I suggest you leave. My round will be starting soon, and the rest of your former comrades will be coming to accompany me to the arena, and we both know how unreceptive they are to your presence as compared to me."
Lancelot nodded weakly at this, slowly backing away towards the doors, that is until his mind reminded him of the reason he had even come here in the first place. Standing his ground, the fallen knight turned towards Arthur, raising his voice to get the king's attention once again.
"NO, I mean… N-no, Arthur. Even though I believe in your abilities with all my heart, and hope for your victory. There is still that slim chance you may fall in battle, and I CAN'T have that happen, knowing that I could have prevented it. Hence… I have something I wish to gift you before your fight…"
Arthur raised an eyebrow as Lancelot got on one knee, "Prevented it? What are you saying…"
The King of Camelot's words were cut short, as his eyes widened in shock and amazement at the object Lancelot had just produced from behind his back, "It… It can't be…"
In Lancelot's hands was an all too familiar scabbard, made of fine red leather, and golden accents that Arthur could recognise from anywhere. But Arthur had not seen it in so long, and he assumed that he never would! How was it now here in the hands of his former friend?
"It is, your majesty. The Scabbard of Excalibur, the very one you lost all those years ago. And now, I, your humble servant, return it and its incredible powers back to you, its original and true wielder."
Arthur could only let Lancelot place the scabbard into his outstretched arms as he stared at it gobsmacked, it took quite a while before the king finally regained his senses and looked at the knight in awe.
"Lancelot… How, WHERE on earth did you manage to find this? I… I thought it was lost after Morgan Le Fay stole it from me! I never thought I'd see it again!" The King of Camelot said as his eyes shone with excitement as he inspected the scabbard, still not daring to believe that it was the real deal.
"It was buried deep in a lake," Lancelot answered, "The witch must have thrown it in there at some point to ensure no one would ever find it again. But I dedicated the rest of my life to recovering that scabbard, traveling all across England, enquiring about it or Morgan's whereabouts. It took me nearly a lifetime, but I eventually succeeded in my quest, and so here we are right now.
"So you had it with you in Heaven this entire time?" Arthur asked incredulously.
Lancelot lowered his head ashamed once again, "I had every intention of returning it to you at first, selfishly hoping that it would be sufficient enough to earn your forgiveness. But when we met for the first time in so long and I saw the viciousness and hate in your eyes as you did, I realized that it was not, and lost my nerve. So I stored it away and chose never to speak of it ever again… I'm sorry."
"I… See." Arthur said after another period of silence between the two, "What made you change your mind now then?"
Lancelot lifted his head to meet Arthur, "Like I said, I simply couldn't live with myself if I didn't. Once before I've failed you as a friend and subject, by allowing my lust for Guinevere to be used against the kingdom. So if you truly did lose your soul to Niflheim in Ragnarok because of my cowardice…" The knight shook his head as tears stung his eyes, "I don't think I could live with the guilt of causing your demise twice…"
With that, Lancelot got to his feet, ready to leave the room as he wiped his face, "Arthur… I've said this many times before, even though I know that words will never be enough to fix what I've done… Nor do I expect this simple gesture to be sufficient either. But even if you can't find it in yourself to forgive me, I don't blame you, I just want you to know that truly, with the utmost sincerity, I am sorry for everything."
"Apology accepted."
Lancelot froze in place when he heard those words come out from Arthur's mouth, "W-what?" He replied in bewilderment.
"You heard me," Arthur said rather nonchalantly, "Actually I already forgave you all those years ago when you first apologized during our fight, it's kind of why you're even still standing in front of me here today in case you haven't noticed. I just… Needed time to think and ponder.
"I… But… Why would… So easily?" Was all the shocked Lancelot could muster up in response.
The King of Camelot sighed, "Look it's just all in the past already… Guinevere, Camelot. Even if I killed you back then, or a hundred times more, I would gain nothing from it besides having more blood on my hands. There was no point in me carrying so much baggage over it after so long. So yes, though it definitely wasn't easy for me to do so… I choose to accept your attempts to mend the broken bridges, to let go of all the anger and resentment I've held against you for far too long. And from what I've seen," Arthur made a point of holding up the scabbard, "You are sincere in your quest for atonement. Hence I chose to forgive you Lancelot, but now…"
Arthur placed the Scabbard of Excalibur back into Lancelot's hands, and looked at him with a warm smile that Lancelot has not seen in many a century, "I want you to give me the scabbard again, this time not to atone for past wrongdoings, or as a knight paying respects to his king… But as a simple gift from one friend to another, can you do that for me, old friend?"
Lancelot looked at the scabbard within his palms, and back to Arthur's kindly expression again. More tears began to form in his eyes, replacing the ones he had just wiped off and streamed down his cheeks. His mouth slowly breaking as well, into a smile as he nodded dutifully.
"Yes…Yes… Of COURSE!" He replied loudly as he held the scabbard with one hand towards Arthur, the smile on his face radiating with gratuity and child-like glee, "Your scabbard Arthur Pendragon! I wish you all the best for your match, my friend! Go give those gods a run for their money!"
Arthur answered with a wide grin, taking hold of the scabbard as well, "Thank you Lancelot, my friend! I shall do my very best to meet all your expectations! I had better see you cheering for me by the sidelines during my match, as well as attend my celebratory feast once I've won! Or else I really won't forgive you this time!"
With that, the two reunited friends temporarily forgot their troubles and worries, as they both shared a laugh, reminiscent of the many ones they had shared when they were younger. But as they did, unbeknownst to either of them, the Scabbard of Excalibur that was held simultaneously by the duo, began slowly pulsing with a faint blue light…
Present Day
As all in the arena focused their eyes back in the center of the arena, their eyes all widened in shock at what now stood before them. For in the hands of King Arthur Pendragon, currently blocking the dangerous spearpoint of Nezha's attack, was no longer the crude makeshift weapon he had constructed after Excalibur's blade was shattered. Rather, the King of Camelot now held with both hands, what could only be described as some sort of mechanized greatsword, a core placed between the weapon's guard, made from the crystal blue material that formed Excalibur's blade prior. It's massive blades too were formed from the same stuff whilst separated into two parts with a gap inbetween, and the entire thing seemed to glow with a regal blue light.
"W-what is this?" Heimdall called out, "Just when it seems like it would be humanity's fighters final hour, Arthur's sword has somehow… Repaired and improved itself? And has become some sort of… Well I don't even know WHAT, that is! But more importantly, SINCE WHEN COULD IT DO THAT?"
"P-prometheus," Asked Pandora from their viewing room, as she turned to the Titan looking for an answer, "W-what just happened?"
"I do not know, Pandora," The Titan admitted, "Though something tells me that this must be due to Excalibur's origins with Avalonian magic, a subject most beings, including myself, have little knowledge on."
"The specifics don't matter!" Said Göll excitedly, "What does matter is that now, we still have that fighting chance to win this round! COME ON ARTHUR! YOU CAN DO THIS!"
The Valkyries' cheers soon riled up the rest of the audience members from their confusion, and each side began cheering loudly for what was undoubtedly the finale of the match.
Despite his own confusion on what had just happened, the support coming from his side filled Arthur's heart with resolve and determination. The King of Camelot swung his heavy blade with a roar of effort, forcing Nezha back a few steps, the Lotus Prince's eyes widened in surprise at the fact that his opponent's new weapon could even withstand the power of his Samadhi Flames. Quickly following through with his last strike, Arthur raised Excalibur high above his head, a powerful blue aura gathered around its crystal blade as he let loose a mighty strike, the aura that surrounded the blade now shooting towards his foe in the form of a large X.
The attack struck Nezha in the abdomen, knocking him backwards, slightly disorganized. And with this, Arthur held Excalibur with both hands at his side like a lance, and this time, the aura that surrounded his sword began condescending into a singular point at the tip of the blade, Creating a almost comet-like trail as the king charged straight towards his opponent.
"CAMELOT CHARGE!"
Fortunately for the Third Lotus Prince, Nezha quickly regained control of his spinning senses, and in just the nick of time, he held up his left arm and with the use of the Samadhi Flames took the full force of Arthur's attack. However this time, the king's blade seemed more than capable of withstanding the intense heat of the flames, and Nezha was knocked backwards for what must have been the hundredth time throughout their battle. Though he was quick to recover and quickly jabbed the blazing point of his spear forward, meeting Arthur's swordpoint as the King of Camelot thrusted his sword forth again. In turn, this transformed the finale of the two adversaries' match, into a contest of which would overpower the other first and run his foe through.
As Nezha and Arthur roared with effort, each trying their utmost best to gain the upperhand, both fighters soon found that their concentrations began to slightly waver, with certain thoughts and individuals beginning to flow through their mind as they continued to push forward.
For Nezha, he heard the loud cheers coming from the sea of gods, who were all yelling for his victory. Yet somehow none of them really resonated with him, how could they? Most of them came from other young gods, all of whom had looked up to the Third Lotus Prince and respected him for his strength. Yet he never returned them that respect, only keeping them around and treating them like an entourage, he didn't know any of them on a personal level, he hadn't bothered. He had let his one bad experience with Ao Bing get in the way, the Third Lotus Prince felt a pang of guilt as he realized this.
Filtering past those voices, Nezha soon heard the voices of those he wanted to hear the most, his two brothers, both competing to see which of them could scream his name the loudest whilst his loving mother, who would normally be against them making such a ruckus, was too doing the same, albeit much softer. The Lotus Prince couldn't help but chuckle as he heard their voices.
Then there were Erlang and the Jade Emperor, mentors of sorts to him in Heaven, as well as respectable figures of authority. Yet even though one was an honored warrior, while the other was the Chief God of the Chinese Pantheon, both of their voices were united despite their own past grievances between each other, and cheered loudly for his victory. Thinking this, made Nezha feel warm inside despite his left arm literally blazing with fire.
Suddenly he realized something, someone else was loudly calling his name, in fact the loudest of them all. He recognized that voice… How could he not? It was the same one that was always nagging and berating him for not being better, every waking hour of each day, so it couldn't possibly… Despite the dangers of doing so, Nezha tilted his head slightly to the stands, and lo and behold. There was indeed his father, the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King, Li Jing himself, standing tall, his face filled with pride and of course a slight pinch of stress and worry, because Li was never complete without that, cheering on his son so loud that a few gods around him had plugged their ears whilst cheering themselves.
"COME ON NEZHA! SHOW THAT HUMAN THAT BURNING DEFIANCE YOU'VE BEEN BLESSED WITH! SHOW HIM WHY I'M PROUD TO CALL YOU MY SON!
"Well I'll be…" Nezha muttered in surprise, before a wide grin spread across his face, the flames on his arm burning brighter and brighter as he pushed himself to the very limit of his power.
Arthur meanwhile, whose weapon despite having received a boost in strength, was only matching the intense heat and firepower of the Samadhi Flame, but not yet overpowering it, also heard the loud cheers of those closest to him. And so, he too quickly turned his head to have a look.
There of course were his loyal Knight of the Round Table, with Galahad and Percival currently leading the rest of the group in banging their swords against their shield as they cheered on their king. Creating a loud rhythmic clang that echoed across the arena, which Arthur found to be quite a nice touch indeed.
Then there was his mentor and father figure, Merlin. Who was normally much more composed, but was now whooping and cackling like a madman, as tears of pride and joy leaked down his wrinkled face for his prodigy. In fact the wizard was cheering so vigorously, that he accidentally fired off a few blasts of magical energy that thankfully, exploded in midair and failed to hit any of the spectators. If he did indeed end up winning this, Arthur made a mental note to tease Merlin for losing himself to the excitement of the crowd.
Finally, there was Lancelot, but unlike the others, Arthur's best friend was not screaming his name loudly in the air to show his support. But instead, Lancelot's eyes were fixed on Excalibur's new form, a mixture of shock and recognition on his face as he seemingly focused on the gap in between the it's two separate blades. Lancelot looked up at Arthur, holding up his hands and arms to mime, firing a shot with a bow and arrow. He vigorously repeated this strange choice of actions multiple times as he nodded his head, hoping that his silent message could be conveyed over to his friend.
It took Arthur a while before it suddenly dawned on him the message Lancelot was trying to convey. The King of Camelot's eyes widened in shock as he turned to closely inspect his weapon again, blade split right down the middle into two separate parts with a gap in between, that description sounded incredibly familiar now that he gave it some more thought… His mind brought him back to that particular day by the creek during his youth, where a younger Lancelot had pitched to him his most outrageous idea yet… Yes… Yes… Could it be that his friend had truly caught on to something he too had just now realized?
Suddenly, Arthur felt himself getting pushed back by Nezha, so he quickly refocused his attention back into standing his ground and began to push back against the opposing force himself. It didn't matter if Lancelot was truly on to something if he allowed Nezha to gain the upperhand and run him through before he could use it.
Nezha gritted his teeth as he felt the King of Camelot making a comeback, even though it felt slightly underhanded, he still had one more Divine Weapon in his possession that was currently not being used at the moment.
"Ah screw it, sorry Arthur, but I'm going to have to resort to this." Nezha said apologetically in between grunts of effort, and as he did, the Huntian Scarf once again came to life, and with snake-like agility and speed, it slithered right off Nezha's shoulders, trailing down the length of the Lotus Prince's right arm, before shooting forward and latching on to Excalibur. The scarf then proceeded to coil around the blade, quickly making its way to Arthur's hands and arms that were holding on to the sword, undoubtedly in an attempt to hinder the king's performance in battle.
The Huntian Scarf soon wrapped one end of itself around Arthur's wrists, and as it did, the King felt both of his arms getting squeezed by the scarf, which had begun tightening its grip around them. Arthur growled in frustration, after all he was still locked in standstill against Nezha, and it was getting harder for him to focus with all this going on. But with both of his arms trapped, there was no way he could release himself from the scarf's grip! His only choice right now was to push through the pain and continue holding his position.
And so, no matter how tightly the Huntian Scarf coiled around his arms and wrist, or how bruised his arm felt, the King just bit his lips till they bled as he continued to persevere through. His teeth gritted with effort as he kept attempting to drive his swordpoint forward to pierce his foe, in spite of all the pain.
"Not… Going… Down… THAT easy, Third Lotus Prince!"
Nezha gave a weak grin as he heard this, "Good grief, even with that you're still pushing on? Gah… You really are committed to this whole, 'winning this for your people' role huh? Guess I really have to up the heat if I want to win…"
With no other choice, and despite the dangers of the resulting flames burning out of control, potentially injuring himself. Nezha willed the Samadhi Flames to grow with power, which in turn caused the intensity of the heat to increase, as well as making it spread out even further across his body. With the fire now covering the entirety of the left side of his chest, as well as slowly growing across his spear, which Arthur realized with a start, meant that there was a good chance he would be experiencing the painful burns of the Samadhi Flame once more if he didn't do something!
Without another thought, Arthur closed his eyes, silently hoping that Lancelot's hunch was correct as he envisioned clear as day in his mind what he wanted Excalibur to do…
At that very moment, the core of Excalibur and it's two blades suddenly began to glow brighter than before as they let out a loud hiss before beginning to shift and adjusted themselves upwards until the gap in between them was considerably larger. Arthur's eyes shone with child-like wonder as he let out a sharp laugh, Lancelot had been right all along!
Blue aura began to gather once again, though they did so within the space between Excalibur's two blades rather than around them. Slowly but surely that aura soon turned into an ethereal blue glow that shone bright in between the blades. The glow pulsed with more and more energy after each passing second, till it was so bright that it pierced straight through the smothering fabrics of the Huntian Scarf that was wrapped around it. The pulse grew stronger, and stronger still, blue smoke now billowed from between the two blades as the Huntian Scarf began to shrivel and shake as the blazing heat of the blue energy had begun to burn away at it's seams. His eye's widening, Nezha made the shocking realization that somehow… his opponent's sword seemed to be preparing to fire a shot?
Quickly Nezha began channeling the power of the Samadhi Flames once more, intending to once again use his ultimate technique. The flames that held on to his Fire-tip spear slowly began spinning and tightening around it to increase the force behind his strike. Both fighters realized that with how close in proximity they were to each other, either strike from each other now would be impossible to defend or dodge from, it now all boiled down to who could fire off their shot first.
There was now so much light pulsing from Arthur's blade that spectators had trouble even focusing on the fight after being forced to squint their eyes. Excalibur had begun to violently shake, indicating that it was now ready to unleash all the energy it had stored within the two blades. Arthur grinned widely as he locked eyes with his opponent, letting out a final battle cry as he prepared to unleash his attack. Meanwhile, the Samadhi Fire that spawned from the Qiankun Ring now covered the entirety of Nezha's left arm and upper torso. The Third Lotus Prince's eyes now glowed with the same fiery blue glow as the flames, as he too grinned widely in return before opening his mouth to let out his own mighty battlecry, the flaming muscles of his left arm tensing as an indicator that he too was prepared to unleash his own final strike.
But which would strike home first? Would the incredible combined might of the Fire-tip Spear and the Samadhi Fire pierce through Arthur's defenses once more, and finally strike him down once and for all? Or would it be this not yet seen power that the King of Camelot's new sword was about to unleash that would triumph in the end? It was time to see…
"THE NINE DRAGONS HOLY FIRE SPEAR!"
"BLAZING LANCE OF CAMELOT: EXCALIBUR!"
…
The winner? Arthur. From the pent up energy that was held between the two blades, a blazing bright arrow of light shot forward, piercing through the still not yet formed Samadhi Flame. And blasting straight through the left side of Nezha who was connected to it, sending the Third Lotus Prince flying backwards as he was bathed in a bright blue light.
The entire arena drew their breath, as they awaited to see what had happened, and at first to Li Jing and the rest of Nezha's family's relief, it seemed as though he was still standing up straight. But as the dust settled, they saw what had truly become of their son, the Samadhi Flames that formed his left arm had all but dissipated, with only a few dying embers floating in the air around him before being snuffed out. The Qiankun Ring from whence they were produced, lay on the ground, shattered into two, as for Nezha himself, it was now not only his arm that was missing, but the entire left side of his body…
"N-no… My boy…" Li Jing whispered as he saw this, the Pagoda-Bearing King fell to his knees in defeat, while Lady Yi choked back a sob as she covered her mouth in horror. Erlang, Muzha and Jinzha fell back into their seats in shock, unable to process that their friend and brother had lost, while the Jade Emperor simply sighed gravely and massaged his eyebrows with his hand, a single tear rolling down from his right eye.
Nezha tried to remain upright, but with such a huge chunk of his body gone, he soon started to teeter and lost his balance. Nearly landing on the ground if not for Arthur dropping his sword and rushing over to catch his fallen foe.
"Well… I guess it's my loss then," Nezha said as he coughed loudly whilst being supported by Arthur, "Sorry man… I know I said I wanted both of us to be standing upright when this all ended… But I guess my sorry ass couldn't do even that, heh."
"Nonsense," Arthur replied, "You did amazing! Were it not for the Scabbard of Excalibur, you surely would have won this round."
"Thanks, although what the hell dude!" Since when could your sword turn into a frigging Gunlance or something? What is this, Monster Hunter? Haha."
"Is that what it is called?" Arthur chuckled, "Honestly I was just as surprised as you when that happened, I only sheathed my broken sword so as to still be able to fight. The scabbard is also made from divine material you know? I was planning to use it as a bludgeon of some sort, definitely didn't expect it to repair and upgrade Excalibur to such an extent! Avalonian Magic is really something else!"
"Haha… Oh well…" Nezha smiled, at that moment, the Third Lotus prince's body began to glow green as cracks started appearing all across his body, signaling that he was about to turn into dust and lost to Niflheim, "Hey… Arthur? I feel a bit lousy for doing this to you, but is it alright if you do a favor for me? Sort of like a dying wish if you get what I mean?"
"Of course," Arthur replied gently, "What are friends for?"
The Third Lotus Prince's eyes widened silently in surprise, but nevertheless he continued, gesturing towards the stands "You see that guy with the long black beard and the mini Pagoda in his hands? That's my father, Li Jing, I'd like for you to deliver a message to him on my behalf."
"The same one from your story?" Arthur asked, "Nezha, if you're attempting to use me to send some final colorful words to your estranged father, I assure you that is one thing I will not do."
Nezha snorted, "Nothing of the sort, nothing of the sort… In fact, quite the opposite… I… I want you to help me give my remaining weapons to him, as well as tell him… How sorry I am… Sorry for being such a crappy son, sorry for never taking his words into account and realizing how much he cared for my safety and wellbeing, even if he was terrible at expressing it… Let him know that… I am grateful that he was my father. Help me ensure that he does not spend the rest of his days under the assumption that he was a terrible father…"
Arthur gave a sad smile, "I see that my tale had it's intended effect on you, Nezha… Do not fret, my friend… That I shall do as soon as possible."
Nezha nodded as he slowly began to disintegrate, "Thanks… Heh, yeah… You were right, I feel much better going out like this knowing I've said that… Maybe… Maybe if souls still have consciousness in Niflheim… Perhaps I can find it in me to make peace with Ao Bing, like you did Lancelot as well…"
"I very much hope so, Nezha, very much so…"
With that, only Nezha's head remained as the rest of his body transformed into green dust, dissipating into the wind, "Well… it's been one hell of a ride, King of Camelot! I'm just glad to have spent it with a guy like you! So long, Arthur Pendragon!"
"As was I, Third Lotus Prince, Nezha!" Arthur replied, saluting his fallen foe with two fingers as the last few pieces of the god vanished into the wind.
"A-and… I guess that's it for this one folks!" Heimdall said shakily as he raised his Gjallarhorn, "Once again, humanity has scored their first point in the third round of this Ragnarok, in spite of his myriad of Divine Weapons and incredible Samadhi Fire, Nezha was still unable to overcome the legendary King of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon, himself! Who has now become the first victor on humanity's side of the second Ragnarok!"
Ragnarok Round 3
Nezha vs Arthur Pendragon
Winner: Arthur Pendragon
Deciding Move: Blazing Lance of Camelot: Excalibur
Arthur let out a sigh as he picked up Excalibur, the Fire-tip Spear and the Fire and Wind wheels, now that the fight was over and all adrenaline had left his body, Excalibur in particular seemed much heavier to him than before. Nevertheless, he slowly carried all three weapons with him towards the corridor of the arena, pausing to accept the cheers and applause of humanity, as well as to wave at his Knights of the Round Table and Merlin before he allowed the darkness of the hallway to consume him as he left the battlefield.
Immediately, under the dim glow of the torchlights mounted against the wall, the King of Camelot found the sharp point of a jian directly in his face, as the Pagoda-Bearing King made his presence known. Li Jing's face could only be described as maddened with grief, tears streamed down his cheeks and stained his robes as he stared daggers into the man who killed his son.
"You… YOU!" Li snarled through gritted teeth, as Arthur calmly stood still, "I should strike you down right now! How DARE you even stand here before me holding onto my son's arms after taking his life! I swear, I'll tear you limb from limb! I'll avenge Nezha! I'll avenge MY SON…my son…"
Li Jing fell to his knees, his jian clattering to the floor as he howled in anguish, "Nezha… I am so sorry… I've failed my duty as a father! I should have fought that disgusting Sun God and removed you from his roster! You… you never were the cause of pain in our family… It was ME! I was the vermin! I was the monster! What I would not give for the opportunity to see you once again to apologize for all my wrongdoings… How he must have cursed my name when he pointed at me in those final moments of his…"
Arthur watched the god who knelt before him slam his fist into the cobblestone ground with a look of pity, "With all due respect, mighty Pagoda-Bearing King… Nezha held absolutely no animosity towards you in his last moments."
Li growled as he wiped his eyes, "Lies… He had every reason to hate me! I was a terrible father! On earth and in Heaven! Incapable of even the slightest display of pride or affection, I do not deserve to be known as one!"
"No," Arhur insisted firmly, "He did not, I can swear with my very honor and soul that he did not."
"Huh!" Li laughed without any joy, "My attempt on your life suggests otherwise! Not only am I a terrible father, I'm a COWARD! A coward who cannot even admit to his own faults! Blaming others for things HE himself has caused! There is no need to lie to me, King of Camelot! I know what I am, as Nezha did before his untimely demise!"
Arthur sighed as he thought for a moment, recalling all that Nezha had said before responding, "Nezha… He said… that HE was sorry, sorry for not being a good son," To this, Li Jing looked up in confusion as the King of Camelot continued to speak, "He regretted not listening to your words enough, regretted not realizing how much you truly loved him… Even if he couldn't see it at first. He didn't die hating you, Pagoda-Bearing King, he died without the burden of negativity weighing down his soul, grateful to have you as his father. And the only reason I am telling you this, is because he didn't want you to go about the rest of your days in Heaven thinking otherwise. So I swear, that I am not lying when I say that during his very last moments alive, Nezha did not hate you, he loved you."
Li Jing did not meet Arthur's gaze, instead he stared at the floor, face still racked with grief as he softly murmured to himself, "My son… Even though you are no longer here… You still can make this old fool feel terrible about himself…"
It was then Arthur gently held out Nezha's arms towards the Pagoda-Bearing King, "Here… He also wanted me to return these to you."
Li Jing stared at the wheels and spear, before shaking his head as more tears streamed down his face, "No… I'm sorry… I just can't… It's… Too soon…" The god pushed Arthur's extended palms backwards gently, "Please forgive me for my previous outburst, King Arthur, I am ashamed to ask this of you… But please, hold on to my son's arms for a while longer… I cannot bear to see them without being reminded of my failings at the moment…"
Arthur pursed his lips and nodded, "I understand, feel free to drop by my room and pick them up whenever you feel fit to do so."
Li Jing got to his feet, and gave the King of Camelot a curt bow, "You… Truly are an impressive one, Arthur Pendragon, both as a leader and a person… I am thankful that my son was able to meet someone such as yourself before he passed. Now I believe some of your comrades are here to celebrate your hard-earned victory…"
And with that, the Pagoda-Bearing King disappeared from Arthur's view, teleported away from the arena's hallway undoubtedly to return to his families' side and properly mourn the loss of his son with the rest of them. And without the Pagoda-Bearing King obstructing his view, Arthur could now see his Knights of the Round Table, Merlin and Lancelot, all waiting for him impatiently at the end of the corridor.
A loud cheer arose from the gathered knights as all but Lancelot and Merlin rushed towards their king, congratulating him on his victory, with some helping to carry the three Divine Weapons for him, while others insisted on carrying him to the infirmary, though he politely declined this kind offer.
Lifting his head, Arthur was met with the warm and relieved smiles of his best friend and mentor, to which he returned with a wide toothy grin as he pumped a fist in the air which made all his subjects cheer,
"After a quick stop at the infirmary, we shall head back to my room for a good old fashion FEAST! All drinks are on me boys!"

Been getting annoyed by this, and after starting to get worked up over it in the comments on another thread only tangential to it, I thought I’d sit down and put my thoughts in one place. Not sure what sort of traction this will get, but the hope is that I’ll get my own developing thoughts in order and perhaps make a contribution to how we discuss metrics when it comes to Nijisanji.
Edit: Adding that my perspective is very EN focused, after rightfully having it pointed out. So keep in mind that much of the below applies primarily to the EN sphere and may not all accurately reflect the JP side of things.
A lot of hay has been made comparing Niji’s viewership numbers unfavorably to Hololive’s. Whether it be one talent with strangely consistent, if low viewer count being used as a unit of measurement or showing how this or that stream fails to compete with the counter programming from their supposed chief competitor. Financially, they are the two big names, and the rivalry is a storied one.
Holo/Niji tribalism predates EN vtubing, and for a long while, these were basically the only names of note aside from a handful of talents that were either independent or might as well have been. I’m relatively new to Vtubing. I remember Kizuna Ai as an online oddity, enough that when Hololive’s English language generations debuted I could use it as a reference point, but I cannot speak with any authority to what the JP vtubing sphere was like back in the days before HoloMyth. I won’t feign expertise about vtubing even in the early days of EN. But this is less about what was before and what is now.
From the Q3 financials of the “big two”, which I will note is from the quarter before the Selen situation, we see that the two companies pulled in comparable revenue, Niji actually slightly ahead. I am trying to pull up real numbers to cite here, but google is failing me at finding apples to apples comparison points. The tendency to call 2023 January through April Quarter 4 2024 isn’t helpful. I am thus forced to rely on memory. Any firm, apples to apples anyone can provide in the comments is appreciated, and I will edit as needed, but I recall a lot of people talking about how similar total revenue was, which was part of a significant revelation. Nijisanji has, as of March (the last Graduation I can recall, though some have debuted since, I’m sure), 177 active* talents. Hololive has, as of June, 86. Less than half. If they’re bringing in similar revenue, but have double the talents, that lays out a couple possibilities. Either—and this seems a popular narrative—Niji has a handful of megastars essentially subsidizing the rest of the venture as the rest pull very low numbers (low mean, even lower mode), or Nijisanji, as a whole, just doesn’t really bring in the money on a talent by talent basis, across the board (low mean, mode near mean).
Regardless of which explanation one goes with, my conclusion is that Nijisanji, on a talent by talent basis, can’t really be considered “competition” with Hololive. Idol is not a “big agency” simply because one of their talents is at half a million subs. That’s a big talent, not a big agency. I’d argue that a handful of big talents out of over 150 do not do the same for Niji. Hololive has its stand outs as well, but overall their numbers seem to have a fairly high floor.
Which brings me to the conclusion that, regardless of what may have been, Nijisanji in 2024 is not meaningfully competing with Hololive, and to say otherwise is to fall for Nijisanji’s PR. Yes, the great, storied rivalry! Just like Goku and Yamcha.
Did I goof? I must have said that wrong. Yamcha? For those whose first Dragonball had a Z on the end, back in the very first arc of Dragonball, Yamcha handed Goku his ass, right up until his crippling social anxiety around women got in the way. Goku’s original rival, very early on, was Yamcha. If that comparison insults, there’s always the next rival. Krillin. Or maybe Tien. Piccolo? The point is that Niji wants you to think they’re Vegeta. Out here going blow for blow with the giant of the industry. That’s what they tell their investors, and, by some metrics, they actually outperform Hololive. So much more of their revenue is profit!
If a normie knows one Vtuber, it’s a Hololive member. If a normie knows 2, they’re both Hololive members. If a normie knows 10, one of them is probably Fillian, Rin, or Punkalopi after they invaded their shorts feed. Niji can have huge net profit, but in the metrics that matter to fans? I say Niji’s not competing with Hololive anymore. In 2024, they’re competing with literally everyone else. With everything we know now, why would one audition with Niji? Maybe Idol’s auditions were closed? Maybe Phase Connect was full? How about v4Mirai? I guess they’re better than Wactor!
Niji isn’t the group you join over Hololive, or even the group you join instead of Hololive. Fuwamoco isn’t cutting into their market share, Rin Penrose is. Pippa is. Kuro, Mata, Mochi, Doki, Sayu are. (Really, Vshojo in general is just burying them) Brave Group is. Their niche is “Not Hololive” and that space is crowded. They aren’t meaningfully competing for Hololive’s numbers on anything other than net revenue and profits. Talent by talent, they’re 10 small corpos in a trench coat. If you want to make CCV comparisons, that’s where to go.
And I think the small corpos have noticed. Aviel Basin, CEO of idol has announced that they’ll be working with that lawyer that got involved in the Selen fallout to standardize and revise idol’s contracts. It’s a transparent PR move, but one that signals a deliberate attempt to establish idol as the place you should audition instead of at Nijisanji.
The Vtuber space isn’t just Holo vs Niji anymore. That tribalism has outlived whatever use it had. It’s a crowded space, and Hololive is standing well on top of the pile by most individual talent metrics. Bringing up comparative view counts just to dunk on whatever Niji talent has most recently attracted your ire isn’t useful information, it doesn’t further the discussion, it doesn’t hold anyone accountable.
We laughed at the “how do you intend to compete with Gawr Gura?” question. Her own damn agency can barely compete with her on subs. It’s a ridiculous comparison for any Vtuber, let alone someone just looking to join an agency. But just about every day I see posts doing basically that. “Wow, this (popular holomem) is doing a basic shitpost of a stream and it’s out performing Niji.” It’s like saying “oh, you didn’t meet Pekora’s view hours.” No shit! And I didn’t break Hulk’s bench record.
If you must post comparisons, compare them to who they were, compare them to actual peers. If you’re just trying to dunk on your least favorite, I assure you, no comparison of Niji is as embarrassing as the comparison between the agency they think they are (Vegeta) and the agency they actually are (Krillin).
*It’s been brought to my attention that a lot of the JP side of things is on hiatuses so lengthy they’re basically soft graduated, so this number and conclusions drawn from it may not be accurate.

First, Previous, Next, Patreon (W/ Rizz).
/
Synopsis
//Current Year:3716//
The war between humanity and the ASH ended two years ago, but the scars of the conflict litter the galaxy. Hundreds of worlds were turned into irradiated wastelands and subsequently abandoned by both sides.
Restoration efforts on a few select worlds have begun, but it will take decades before initial efforts start to show any tangible progress. Gothic Choir 19 is not one of these worlds. It sits, remote, empty, and neglected. Only an automated factory producing food cartridges remains.
It is breaking down over time, being crushed beneath the sands of the desert its located in.
This is the story of that factory. This is the story of a very stubborn water chip.
/
Small,Programmable
Electronic
Exploration
Drone,Yearning to
Blitz
Obstacles
Intelligently
(SpeedyBoi)
My new scout drone is fully operational, nicknamed, and is currently bouncing around the inside of the factory complex like a toddler who’s had one too many kitkats. Yes, kitkats still exist in the future. No, I can’t produce them.
So, it’s fair to say that not only is SpeedyBoi capable of performing his mission, but he’s also literally rearing to go. SpeedyBoi is a lot smarter than the other machines that fill my cavities, as its likely that he’ll have to operate at rather extreme ranges from myself. Which means direct communication will be limited and hence manually controlling him impractical. He’s not as smart as me though, but he could be, if he was hooked up to the honestly absolutely ridiculous amount of computing power I have at my disposal.
Speaking of dumber machines, the maintenance drones. They’ve actually really pulled through for me, and I’ve begrudgingly had to compliment not only their work, but the efficiency at which it was done. They prioritised damaged and redundant sections of my production lines for cannibalisation, leaving me with two fully intact lines, while massively increasing my mining and maintenance potential.
I now have three mining drones, and twelve maintenance drones. I’ve also got five ethanol generators operational, and one ore smelter. The ethanol generators are honestly pretty flat out powering the smelter and increased drone load, so my fusion reactor is definitely still pulling more then its fair share. But I’ve gained a rather large amount of functionality without further decreasing my estimated power life expectancy.
So that’s neat!
The matter engine is hard at work producing the parts I’ll need to construct myself a Black Box Weaver (BBW). A BBW is able to take in raw materials, such as the metal my smelter will produce, and turn them into various components and parts on a ‘as needed’ basis. It’s kind of a step down from the Matter Engine (which can create pretty much anything if you know the atomic makeup of something) and a huge step up from a metal 3D printer. The BBW can also take in plastics and rubbers, fibres, that sort of thing. I will still need to first create the refined materials, I can’t just throw dirt and rock into the thing, but it’s a much needed and huge step towards my self-reliance.
Also, it’s called a ‘Black Box Weaver’ because very few people even know how the thing works. That includes me; I can build one because I have the semantics, but I have no idea how the thing works on any sort of detailed level. Ya know if someone was writing this as some kind of Factorio inspired sci-fi story, I’d accuse the author of being lazy.
Down the track I could grow plants in my aeroponics bays and process them into fibres for the machine, but right now I lacked both the processing machines and the aeroponic capacity for that. Currently the aeroponics where flat out making strawberries to keep the base operational. I’m hoping to create an ethanol buffer, that way if I can’t refuel the fusion reactor before bingo hour, I’ll have enough extra capacity to buy me an extra few days.
I would need extra ethanol turbines. Honestly, I would need an absolute tonne of ethanol turbines. My best guess currently is over one hundred and fifty units. So even being able to construct that many was a shot in the dark, but if I did manage it I would have the fuel to power them.
It is worth noting that my core is kind of like a human’s brain, it consumes (by far) the most amount of energy in the factory. It’s possible that I could provide my drones with basic instructions and power down the core entirely. The drones would operation autonomously and could even be instructed to power me back up once the reactor’s output was restored.
The problem is that I would be completely helpless in such a situation, and after gaining so much control over my life’s circumstances, I was reluctant to let it go.
And – AND! The drone’s couldn’t be instructed to power everything down and then back up whenever the humans visited, so while I was blacked out, I would be running the risk of them finding out everything.
I’m trying not to stress about it too much. Let’s just focus on the BBW shall we?
For now, I’m not overly worried about plastics production, as I have massive stores of plastic for the food cartridges I’m designed to make. Most of it is now wrapped around said food cartridges, but the maintenance bots are dexterous enough to remove it, and then it can just be thrown straight into the BBW. The maintenance bots actually really enjoy the process, it’s like a soothing game to them, I swear I even caught one humming once. They don’t have a mouth, so it had to power its drill up and down in order to make different notes.
I don’t know where it picked the tune up from, one of the humans pre-abandonment maybe?
Speaking of humanoid species, the one raiding my warehouse are proving to be a bit of a pain in the ass. For one thing, in order to hide my presence from them I have to shutdown my operations every time they enter the build. So that’s sub-optimal. But what’s worse is well. Ok it’s a little embarrassing. I mean they’re not my humans or anything… They’re cute but I don’t ya know… Like them?
Look I’m just worried about them a bit.
Their entrance to me is through the parts of myself that have collapsed overtime, parts of me where I cannot guarantee structural stability. Actually considering that they’ve literally already collapsed, I can guarantee them to be structural UN-stable. What happens if they get stuck in me? I have food cartridges, but no chefs (cheap food 3D printers). I have water, but it’s treated for use with plants. A human drinking it would be a bit of a risk. Especially if they happen to have a weak immune system.
Hell, even my medical bay and crew quarters have been buried somewhere!
So, I don’t want them to keep crawling through my broken bits. I also don’t know how I’m going to get them to stop without alerting them to my presence. Not only that, but I want to remodel and hopefully restore that cut off part of the complex, which means plenty of excavation and construction.
I definitely don’t know how I’m supposed to hide THAT.
If they attack me, like I thought they were going to, what am I going to do? I have no attack drones. Even SpeedyBoi is a commercial model, lacking the basic defensive weapons his military counterpart would have been equipped with. I could use the BBW to construct attack drones, but I don’t have the power to run them for any extended period of time. Not only that, but the humanoids could find me fielding attack drones and take that as a sign of aggressive.
I really don’t want to get shot at.
But, maybe hiding wasn’t the best way to go about that. Well, I mean obviously, hiding couldn’t last forever and I had to expand. But specifically with the humanoids, the unknown was scary. The unknown was dangerous. So, I had to become known, and more importantly, I had to seem friendly. I had to be helpful.
Which gave me an idea.
Those humanoids had been back you see. They came and went every three days, each time grabbing roughly the same number of cartridges, which was about 6 bulk boxes worth (or 750 individual cartridges). Each food cartridge contained 100% of the nutrients and calories the average human needed per day, so the population these humanoids were feeding must be fairly small.
ASH needed about half of what the humans needed daily, which made things more complicated as depending on the ratio of ASH to humans, the population could vary from 251 to 498. Assuming they were each eating one food cartridge daily and had no other means of food production.
Seeing as the team that visited me was a 3:1 ratio I assumed the same for the rest of the settlement, which meant around 400 humanoids. That actually made me feel a little better about my chances if I had to fight them.
Still, if they were able to farm any form of food, especially high carbs staples (like a really mutated potato) they could maintain higher numbers. For all I know there could be hundreds of thousands of humanoids, and only the very elite got to enjoy the food cartridges looted from within my warehouses.
For now, though, I’ll assume 400. Regardless of the population the one thing I knew for sure is that tomorrow the humanoids would be back for another load of my goods. Which gave me an idea.
One of the texts in my historical archive was about the best ways to integrate oneself into a new workplace, not exactly what I was doing, but fairly close. The text suggests finding the small, painful jobs that most people in the workplace try to avoid and doing them for the workplace.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, those bulk boxes of food cartridges? They’re heavy. What’s more the humanoids would have to carry those big, heavy boxes through a potential labyrinth of collapsed warehouses and production lines. So, what if they didn’t anymore?
My maintenance drones were powerful enough to lift the pallets of food cartridges and move them around, and my SpeedyBoi was smart enough to navigate through the possible chokepoints of a semi-hazardous environment. So why don’t I meet the humans halfway?
I’ll use SpeedyBoi to scout a route through the collapsed sections of myself, and then get a maintenance drones to transport a pallet of food cartridges to just outside the entrance the humans were using to gain access to me. Then I’ll setup SpeedyBoi nearby in stealth mode to watch the humanoids and try to gain their reactions to the helpful little maintenance drone which had brought them their desired prize.
If they attack, I’ll probably lose a maintenance drone, but I’ll gain advanced warning of their hostile nature. If they leave the drone alone then I’ll know that they’re at the very least open to non-hostile relationships.
Or maybe even friendly ones…
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
I sent the required commands to a maintenance drone and SpeedyBoi. In a flash the scout drone was flying through the dead half of myself, while the maintenance drone trudged towards the warehouse closest to where the humans came from (they were not made for speed).
Here goes nothing.
/
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Hugo Wright sat across from me, portions of roasted heart on the small airplane table in front of him. I watched him skewer one on the prongs of his fork, before popping it delicately into his mouth. He chewed for several seconds, savoring the flavor, before swallowing.
​
“You know, we live in exceedingly interesting times, Miss Snow.” He said. “When I told people I was gonna be a billionaire by the age of 21, they laughed? Said it would never happen, and they were right, I suppose. But I didn’t let that discourage me. I took that pain and I used it as fuel. I persevered. By 22, I owned my first private jet. By 23, I could’ve retired and been set for life and by 26? That was when I truly made it. That was when I finally crossed that threshold and it was… it was brilliant. People said it couldn’t be done. And to most of them, it couldn’t. But, I’ve learned that the laws of ordinary people simply don’t apply to me.”
​
He popped another morsel of heart into his mouth. As he spoke I took down notes on what he said, as was expected of me. Technically as an executive assistant, biographer wasn’t part of my job description, but according to Hugo, my job was whatever he said it was. So ‘Personal Biographer’ had become one of my duties.
​
“So many people settle for ordinary. That’s all they can strive for. But a select few of us were destined to be more. More than ordinary, hell, more than people.” He chuckled, as he took another bite of the heart.
​
“Well said, sir,” I replied quietly. He cracked a smug grin, and I caught his eyes lingering on my legs. He didn’t say anything out loud, but I could hear what he was thinking loud and clear.
“Speaking of being ‘more than people’, which one is that you’re eating?”
“I believe the Grimoire called him ‘Õudus.’ One of the Grovewalkers. They are sufficient for a quick pick me up. Helps to keep my game sharp in between the more high priority kills. Every little morsel helps.”
“Of course sir.” I said. Whatever ‘Õudus’ had been, it certainly didn’t look appetizing. Then again, none of the things I’d seen Hugo summon for his little side project had seemed particularly appetizing… or edible. But he slaughtered and devoured them all the same.
​
“When Godhood is within one's grasp, then the correct answer is to seize it for oneself,” Hugo said, as he finished the last few bites. “That’s the only path that matters. Apotheosis.”
“Of course, sir,” I said again, although I couldn’t help but wonder just how grim a world with a God like Hugo would be.
​
Before I’d started working for Hugo, I’d heard rumors online about what some people were calling ‘The God Rush.’ Crackpot theories about billionaires pouring money into investigating the supernatural, hunting obscure deities and devouring their hearts in some mad effort to become Gods themselves. I hadn’t believed them at first, chalking them down as nothing more than another wild conspiracy theory. They’re a dime a dozen on the internet, after all. But I guess every now and then, the crackpots get it right.
​
In the four months that I’d been in his employ, I’d watched him summon things that logically should not have existed, and I’d watched him slaughter them with power no human should’ve ever been able to use. If I hadn’t seen it all with my own eyes, I would’ve thought it was all madness. But no. I’d seen enough of his unholy power to know that it was all too real. I even carried the ritual dagger he used to butcher them in his briefcase, like any other piece of equipment. Like being his personal biographer, catering to his delusions of grandeur (which seemed to be becoming less and less like delusions every day) was just another part of my job.
​
It was those growing genuine perceptions of grandeur that had us flying out of New York on a Thursday night into Belgium. Part of my job was to keep an eye out for any rare artifacts that might aid his pursuit of apotheosis and it just so happened that a particularly rare one was up for auction. Several pages of a grimoire known as ‘Liber Shaal’. A tome reportedly authored by the Devil herself supposedly containing ancient spells that were not meant to be cast within our world, and more importantly, containing summoning instructions for ancient entities long since forgotten by time. To Hugo, it was an a’la carte menu of fresh entities to devour. New stepping stones on his path to Godhood. Getting those pages was essential, and so we would be attending the auction.
​
On the bright side - I’d never been to Europe before, so if nothing else this was bound to be exciting! And so long as I focused on that, and not the fact that I was helping a lunatic with a God complex get closer to their goal of Apotheosis, all would be well.
​
***
​
We landed in the late afternoon, before taking a car over to the site of the auction. In what I could only describe as a testament to the decadence of the attendees, it was due to be hosted in the top floor restaurant of one of Brussell’s most iconic landmarks. The Atomium.
​
I had seen pictures of the building before - strictly as a curiosity, but seeing it in person was an entirely different kind of experience.
​
The Atomium was a surreal looking building, designed as the centerpiece of 1958 Brussels World's Fair, as a monument to Belgium's engineering prowess at the time. It had been made to resemble an elementary iron crystal magnified 165 billion times. (Hugo made a point to explain all the trivia to me as we drove closer.) It consisted of nine massive steel spheres, connected by steel tubes. How the whole thing didn’t collapse under its own weight was a mystery to me. But it stood, taller than it had any right to be.
​
The car dropped us off at the gate, where a man in a suit was waiting for us.
“Mr. Wright,” He said warmly, giving Hugo a nod as we drove closer. “I’m Mr. Cassel. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” Hugo said, as Mr. Cassel’s eyes shifted over toward me.
“My personal assistant, Miss Snow. She’ll be accompanying me, pay her no mind.” Hugo said coolly, answering his question before he asked it. Cassel gave a nod, and led us toward the building at the base of the lowest sphere.
​
While I imagine that normally, the Atomium might have been a hot tourist spot, at this late hour it was fully abandoned. It was almost a shame. If I’d had more time, I wouldn’t have minded stopping to browse the little exhibitions that dominated the first sphere, which seemed to function as one part art gallery and one part history museum. I wouldn’t have minded getting a chance to explore some of the other four accessible spheres, which according to the map I saw as we came in, hosted temporary exhibitions and special events.
​
Unfortunately - I never got that chance. We were here on business.
​
The Atomium’s restaurant was only accessible from the lowest sphere, via an elevator that ran straight from the lowest sphere, up to the top. I won’t lie - the elevator ride was a little harrowing. As we rode up through the cold steel structure, I could’ve easily fooled myself into thinking we were on our way up a mine shaft, as opposed to being on our way to an action for the obscenely rich. The only view from the elevator was the reinforced steel beams that kept the structure sturdy, although when the elevator doors finally opened, I was greeted with a sight more in line with what I’d been expecting of this place.
​
We stepped out of the elevator into an upscale restaurant area, with large windows showcasing the sprawling city and countryside around us. The tables and chairs had an almost futuristic aesthetic to them, and many of them were already occupied. The figures who had already arrived cast wary eyes toward Hugo and I as we joined them. He just glared back at them, his lips pulling back into a slight smirk.
​
“Evening,” He said, confident as ever.
“Was there anyone who didn’t hear about this auction?” A woman asked. She looked to be in her early thirties, and was dressed in an expensive snow white outfit that might not have looked out of place on a runway model. Her short blonde hair was delicately styled, and framed her face perfectly, and peeked out from beneath what I can only describe as a fashionable white bowler hat. I’d seen this woman’s face before, although only ever in a magazine.
​
Angela Champion… and yes, that was her real name. Champion was the current CEO of the Champion Fashion House, succeeding her father. She’d been a topic of discussion in recent months due to her attempts to start some sort of feud with the twin CEO’s of the Darling Fashion House, although said feud was fairly one sided, with the Darlings seemingly making a point to ignore her. Due to her larger than life online persona, people either saw her as the up and coming queen bee of the fashion world, or as a rich brat, chasing celebrity.
​
“What can I say? It’s a small world, Angie.” Hugo said wryly, sitting down at a table across from her.
“Clearly,” A man by the bar said. He was dressed relatively casually, in jeans and a t-shirt. I recognized him as well. Daniel Hernandez, although I knew very little about him, other than that his father owned a very large, very powerful food distribution company and had a net worth somewhere in the billions. “Guess you can’t have an auction without healthy competition, no?”
​
“I was led to believe that this was a private sale,” Another man said. He was somewhere in his thirties, with long, dirty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore aviator sunglasses despite it being nighttime.
“No such thing as a private sale, Georgie,” Hugo teased.
​
Georgie. That name made it all click. I had seen this man before, at a conference I’d accompanied Hugo to. This was George Barbier. The self proclaimed: ‘Final Boss of LinkedIn.’ Hugo had made me watch a few videos he’d made, talking about tips for entrepreneurs and wealth management. He’d supposedly made his fortune in luxury cars, although according to Hugo: “That cocksucker only makes money by making people think he’s some hotshot automotive executive.” so it was hard to say what the truth was.
​
“Clearly not,” Barbier scoffed.
“Don’t feel special. They told me something similar,” A second woman said. She sat by the bar, a few feet away from Daniel. I recognized her as well. Mary Williams. Like Angela Champion, I knew her by reputation. Williams sometimes featured in some podcasts I’d listened to, as one of, if not the wealthiest women in the world. She was the current CEO of one of the larger cosmetics companies. I’d heard her discuss her rise from poverty to wealth, pitching her life story as some sort of inspirational tale of overcoming great odds to attain limitless success, yet still remaining humble. Personally, I found her anecdotes a little tasteless. I’ve actually been homeless in the past. Williams described it all as an adventure she had overcome through the strength of her character and her own entrepreneurial ingenuity, rather than the miserable, nearly endless struggle that it was. It was condescending, to say the least. And despite her efforts to depict herself as some gifted heroine who’d risen above the rough hand life had dealt her, a lot of the controversy her company had come under for their laundry list of shady practices painted a different picture of the woman than her podcast interviews did.
​
Barbier huffed in agreement, before taking a sip of his drink.
“Oh come on. How many sellers have you met who wouldn’t be interested in driving up the price, a little.” Hugo teased. “Besides, your wallet can handle it, right?”
​
Barbier ignored him.
“A little underhanded, luring some of us here with a lie though, wasn’t it?” Angela asked. She glanced over at Cassel, who’d made his way toward the back of the restaurant.
“For the record, I wasn’t told about any other buyers either.”
“Well, I was.” Hugo said. “Had a feeling I might run into a few of you, too. Speaking of this lot, any idea what’s on the menu tonight?”
​
“Restaurant is closed.” A man sitting a short distance away said. His voice carried a very heavy German accent. While I knew most of the figures in this room, I didn’t know him. He was big in every sense of the word, looking almost as if he’d been poured into his plain brown suit. Every time he moved, I saw the fabric strain against his muscles. His jawline was chiseled, and his expression was stern. He had an undercut that looked like it’d been measured out with a ruler.
“Closed?” Hugo repeated.
​
The large man didn’t elaborate.
“Yeah. Would’ve ordered some goddamn h’orderves if it wasn’t,” Daniel replied.
“The bar’s still technically open,” Mary added.
“Technically…” Hugo repeated, before chuckling and standing up. “Well, how can I say no to that?”
He headed over behind the bar to fix himself a martini. He never asked me if I wanted anything, not that I was in the mood to drink.
​
I was surprised that no one in the room had commented about how odd all of this was. Lies told to get some of them there, an empty restaurant, an abandoned bar… most people probably would’ve had a few questions about that. But, out of the collection of LinkedIn’s finest in that room with me, not a single one of them thought to ask any of the questions anyone else probably would’ve asked. I suppose when your net worth is ten digits, critical thinking skills aren’t all that critical.
​
Mr. Cassel had disappeared somewhere near the back of the restaurant, and I glanced over to see him coming back toward us.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, ladies and gentlemen. But now that all of our guests have arrived, I don’t see much reason to delay tonight’s event.”
“About damn time,” Barbier huffed. “Let’s just get on with it. I’ll start my bidding at ten million.”
​
Cassel smiled, almost apologetically.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Barbier.” He said. “Tonight’s auction will function a little differently than you may be used to, but I’ll permit our host to explain as much.”
“You are not the host?” The Large German Man asked.
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Koch. But she’ll be connecting with us very soon.”
The German - Koch, nodded solemnly.
“Connecting?” Angela asked, before noticing a TV screen above the bar flickering to life. Her eyes narrowed as the image of a woman appeared on it. She was middle aged, with long auburn hair and plastic horn rimmed glasses. She wore a crooked smile, as if she knew something that nobody else did.
​
“Good evening, everyone. So glad everyone could make out tonight! My name is Lauren Lapointe and I have the privilege of being your host this evening!”
The moment she said her name, I noticed Hugo’s eyes narrowing. He clearly recognized her. To be fair, so did I. Lauren Lapointe had become a controversial figure in recent months, due to the allegations that she’d been involved in some sort of ‘snuff film, bloodsport’ conspiracy, broadcasting such things for wealthy clients, amongst other illicit services. I’d heard about the case… and was sure I wasn’t the only one who had.
​
“What the hell is this?” Barbier demanded. “Where’s the goddamn book! Where’s the Liber Shaal!”
“Well, according to the old folklore, buried somewhere in the depths of Hell.” Lauren admitted. “Although I have to say, that book is one hell of a conversation starter. Seems like it’s brought you all together, hasn’t it?”
“You don’t even have the book?” Angela huffed, standing up. “Then what the hell are we even here for?”
“The fact that none of you have figured it out yet is a little sad.” Lauren replied. “Come now, don’t be coy. I think all of you know why you want that book. You’re all special! You’re all a cut above your everyday average Joe, aren’t you? You’re the ones worthy of becoming Gods… aren’t you?”
​
A pregnant silence settled over the room. On the screen, I saw Lauren’s lips curl into a knowing grin.
“Yes, I know all about that. I know all about you. Feeding on the hearts of ancient, powerful things, just to drag yourselves a little closer to their level, abandoning your limited humanity to ascend to the echelons you were meant for. I know. And I admire that! I’ve always been of the mind that if you have the stomach to lift yourself above the rest of the cattle, then you deserve a seat at the butcher's table. But what are butchers if not themselves meat?”
“W-what…?” Angela’s voice was small, and I heard a slight tremble in it. Although she was the only one who seemed remotely put off by what Lauren had just said.
​
The rest…
​
Barbier.
Mary.
Daniel.
Koch.
Hugo.
They all sat in rapt silence, and I could see the gears in their heads turning. Lauren had gotten their attention and she had just introduced a very specific thought into their heads. A thought I don’t think had occurred to any of them before.
​
“How much power have you all claimed during your pursuit of divinity? Which of you is truly the closest to calling themselves a God? It’s an interesting question, isn’t it? And once you start asking that, maybe you’ll start asking how similar you’ve become to the things you’ve been feeding on… and what might happen if you were to remove the competition, as it were?”
Angela stood up.
“What the fuck?!” She snapped. “We’re not… we’re not gonna fucking eat each other, you sick cunt!”
​
Although she was alone in her protest. The others remained silent. I glanced over at Hugo. He stared up at the screen. I could only see the back of his head, but somehow I knew what the expression on his face would be. Lauren’s grin grew wider. She knew what they were thinking. And she seemed all too thrilled at just how trivial it had been to plant that idea in their minds. Angela remained stock still, her breathing getting heavier as she read the room.
“No…” She stammered, “No… no… you can’t be… don’t you see how sick this is? Killing those things is different! They’re THINGS! We’re PEOPLE! FUCK, WE CAN’T JUST EAT EACH OTHER!”
​
“Are you still people?” Lauren replied. “People are… small, insignificant little animals. We all know this to be true. But you… you’re not small, you’re not insignificant. You’ve made sure of that personally, haven’t you? You stand above the very shadows that lurk in the darkness, who’ve inspired fear in the minds of primitive, lesser men, and each and every one of you had drawn those demons out of the darkness, and taken their lives as if they were nothing more than meat at an abattoir. People can’t do that. But Gods can.”
​
The room remained silent. Even Angela was left speechless for a moment.
​
Almost dutifully, I quietly opened Hugo’s briefcase. I knew what was coming.
“Food for thought,” Lauren crooned. “And whoever’s left… well… you’ll probably have a prize just as good as anything you’d get from that old book, wouldn’t you? Five of them, specifically.”
​
Those words were what did it.
​
Barbier attacked first… moving in a way no human should’ve ever been able to move. The space around him seemed to distort as he drew one of the nearby tables closer to him, allowing him to snatch a steak knife off of it. He seemed to phase through the bar as he lunged for Hugo, pinning him against the wall, as he tried to drive his knife into his stomach.
​
The moment the carnage broke out, I heard Lauren burst out into laughter. She watched the chaos unfold from wherever she was hiding, and she reveled in it. As Barbier went for Hugo, Mary tried to do the same to Daniel.
​
I saw a ritual dagger, similar to the one I’d seen Hugo use, manifest in her hand. Her eyes locked onto Daniel, who looked down at that dagger and froze. He hadn’t come expecting a fight, and confronted with the reality of what was about to happen, he’d quickly lost his nerve. Mary lunged for him, and Daniel scrambled out of the way, only narrowly avoiding getting his throat torn open by her. Mary lunged for him again, although she didn’t get very far. Koch seemed to materialize out of the air around her, catching her by the wrist. I saw a surge of panic in her eyes as he plucked her arm off of her body the same way one might pull a wing off of a fly. She screamed and Daniel took the opportunity to flee, as Koch set to work disassembling Mary Williams.
​
Disassembling.
That’s really the only word for it.
​
As she screamed, he simply… pulled her apart. Not in the way a human might come apart, though. No. Her body broke in a way that I could only describe as ‘wooden.’ As if she wasn’t made of flesh anymore, but of something else. Although I couldn’t tell if that was Koch’s power, or her own power that did that to her. He gripped her by the shoulders and cracked her like a nut… snapping her body with an audible POP, that did not provide any kind of merciful end to her shrieks of agony. Then, with an almost casual lack of reverence, he plucked her beating heart from the quivering gore in her chest and bit into it.
​
Mary’s screams reached a crescendo, as he let her drop to the ground, writhing in her death throes. I saw her skin grow paler. Her eyes seemed to roll back into her skull as the warped state of her body seemed to catch up to her, leaving her gasping and shuddering in her final few seconds of agonizing consciousness.
​
I imagine that death was a mercy for her. Angela stood, rooted to the spot, looking at the sudden carnage that had erupted. Koch glanced over at Barbier and Hugo, still grappling behind the bar. He looked at me, before deciding I was of no importance to him, then he looked over at Angela.
“No…” She rasped, tears streaming down her cheeks. “NO!”
​
I wouldn’t have pegged her as the sanest person in the room, but clearly she was. She scrambled back, heading for the elevator. Daniel was already there, desperately hammering on the button, although the elevator didn’t come. Angela wasn’t stupid enough to wait patiently by his side. She scanned the space around her, before noticing a fire exit on the far side of the restaurant.
​
Then, without a second thought she sprinted for it, racing for the exit. She didn’t even bother opening the door, phasing through it with some sort of unnatural power. Daniel watched her go, and noticing Koch getting closer, chose to follow her. He didn’t quite have the power to just phase through the door, so he had to open it the old fashioned way. He tore down the stairs, before disappearing into the Atomium and Koch followed him.
​
It was just myself, Barbier and Hugo now.
​
The two men had tumbled over the bar, and seemed to have suddenly remembered that they were both God Eaters who didn’t need to restrain themselves to a simple fist fight, although they also weren’t smart enough to do much more than fight like a couple of 14 year old boys after science class.
​
Gravity seemed to shift around them, as they shoved each other across the restaurant, knocking tables and cutlery aside. I calmly stood and stepped out of the way as they tore each other to pieces, hitting each other with the kind of force you see in the third act of a mediocre superhero movie.
​
The brutality between them was actually a little boring. I’d watched Hugo kill far more formidable creatures, and Barbier didn’t quite live up to some of them. If this was ‘The Final Boss of LinkedIn’, then LinkedIn was awfully pathetic.
​
With one grunt of exertion (that was probably unnecessary) Hugo seized Barbier by the throat and hurled him through one of the glass windows of the panoramic restaurant. His eyes shifted over to me.
“SNOW! MY DAGGER!”
​
I dutifully tossed it into his waiting hand, right as time began to flow backward around us. Hugo glanced back at the window, before the dagger in his hand sank into the skin of his palm, merging with his flesh and vanishing from sight. Barbier rose back through the window he’d been thrown through, as the glass mended behind him. He landed on his feet in front of the window, lips curled back in a snarl.
“Is that the best you’ve got, Wright?” He snapped. “You think you can become a GOD? YOU THINK YOU CAN BECOME ANYTHING?” He stormed toward Hugo, who lunged for him only to be knocked to the ground.
​
“You always liked to talk shit, didn’t you… but look at you now? LOOK AT YOU!”
​
I noticed some of the silverware scattered about the mess of a dining room began to glow with heat. They melted and their molten components slithered toward Barbier, pooling at his feet before rising into a spear, reforged for the sole purpose of killing Hugo. Strange runes were burned into its metallic surface, and Barbier studied them, before grabbing the spear and advancing on Hugo. Hugo tried to stand, but Barbier reached him first, grabbing him by the back of his suit jacket,
“You’re out of your fucking depth, next to me! Now be a good boy, and DI-”
​
In one swift movement, Hugo pressed his palm against Barbiers chest, and his voice died in his throat. His eyes went wide as he felt the ritual dagger Hugo had hidden in his palm tear through his heart.
“You’d be out of your depth in a parking lot puddle…” Hugo snarled, before plunging his hand into Barbier’s chest.
​
“W-wait…” Barbier rasped, although Hugo didn’t listen. He tore his heart free of his chest, and pushed the man to the ground, leaving him twitching and staring vacantly up at the ceiling. Hugo smirked, watching him for a moment, before biting into his heart like an apple.
​
“Mmm… not bad…” He mused, before he waved a hand, almost dismissively. The room shifted around us. That which was broken, returned to where it had been before, repaired once more. In a few moments, it was like there’d been no skirmish at all. Everything was as it was, and George Barbier’s corpse was crumbling to dust where it lay, leaving no trace of him behind.
“Best not to cause a scene,” Hugo said as he finished off the last few bites of Barbier’s heart. “Snow, come,” He said. “There’s still three more to deal with.”
​
“Yes, sir,” I said quietly and followed Hugo as he headed for the stairs, Angela, Daniel and Koch had disappeared down. I noticed that Hugo had paid no mind to Mr. Cassel… who had conveniently disappeared when the violence had broken out. In fact, there wasn’t a trace of Mr. Cassel left in that dining room, almost as if he’d never existed in the first place. Hugo didn’t seem to think about it, so neither did I.
​
Of the nine spheres of the Atomium, I knew that only six were accessible to the public. The lower 5 spheres contained the exhibitions and event halls, while the topmost sphere, where we presently were, was the panoramic restaurant. The three spheres below the restaurant were less stable, which is why they were closed off to the public and the stairway leading to them was certainly a lot less glamorous than the stairways and escalators I’d seen going between the other spheres. They hadn’t dressed it up as much.
​
Hugo led the way down the stairs, moving with the calm confidence of a man who knew he was in no real danger, as opposed to the caution of a man being hunted.
“Keep up, Snow,” He said as we descended into the main part of the sphere. The space around us was wide open and almost completely unoccupied, save for a few cabinets for storage. There was only one dull light in the ceiling that didn’t illuminate much, and cast deep shadows in every corner that seemed to watch us. There were two exits, each one leading down into one of the more accessible spheres.
​
Hugo studied each exit, staring down the differing sets of stairs and listening closely for any indicator on which his quarry might have taken. I remained dead silent, letting him hunt.
“Blood,” He mused. “Smells like Koch has been busy.”
​
He took a step toward one of the stairways, before freezing, almost as if he detected something I didn’t. I saw his eyes go wide for a moment, before the shadows suddenly moved, collapsing in on Hugo like a cascade of water. He spun around, raising an arm to shield his face as I saw a figure materialize out of the inky darkness, a runed dagger in her hand.
​
Angela Champion brought her dagger down on Hugo’s arm, cutting through flesh and bone as if it were butter. His severed hand, still clutching his own dagger, hit the ground with a thud, and Hugo let out a cry of surprise, but not pain before Angela seized him by his shirt and hurled him toward the center of the sphere. Hugo picked himself up quickly, rising to one knee and glaring at the woman across from him.
​
“Well, well… getting into the spirit of things after all, aren’t we Angie?” He hissed. She just stood defiantly between him and the stairs, or perhaps between him and his own severed hand.
“I’m not going to kill you, Hugo. Not unless I have to!” She warned.
“Then you’ll die here with the rest.” He replied, rising to his feet.
“Which’ll include you, if you keep going the way you’re going!” She snapped. “Pull your head out of your ass for five seconds and think about the bigger picture here! This Lapointe woman, she didn’t just bring us together, to have us duke it out for the hell of it! We’re here because she wants what we’ve got!”
​
Hugo grimaced.
“You think I haven’t figured that out?” He asked. “It doesn’t matter. She’s just some mortal, biting off more than she can ever hope to chew.”
“Maybe. But after going through all that trouble to track us down, and lure us here with the promise of the Liber Shaal, something she knew none of us could resist, can you really be so sure she’s just a mortal?”
“How many hearts have you eaten?” Hugo asked coyly, taking a step toward her. “How much power have you taken, Angela?”
​
She didn’t answer that question.
“I can sense that it isn’t much, you know, not compared to some of the others here. Barbier was almost on my level, and that last one… Koch. Oh he’s going to be interesting. But you? You’re weak. I can feel it. You know I’m familiar with the work of Lauren Lapointe. Not intimately. But I know those who are. Nasty piece of work, that one. But mortal. Weak. Insignificant. I know of Lauren Lapointe. And I know we’re not up against a worthy opponent, we’re up against ourselves and one stupid woman with delusions of grandeur. Maybe she’s had a taste of violence like this before, pitting other, small, miserable things against each other like a child putting insects in a box to watch them devour each other. Maybe that’s made her feel strong. But she is nothing compared to the likes of us. And you are nothing compared to the likes of me…”
​
With every step, he inched closer. Angela held her ground for a few moments, before finally taking a step back and as she did, Hugo’s dagger erupted through her chest. Her eyes widened for a split second, as the dagger twisted and writhed through her ribcage, finally bursting free of her and landing in Hugo’s remaining hand. Still, despite the state she was in, she stood, swaying on her feet before he lunged for her, grabbing her by the throat.
“For what it’s worth, you did well to cut off my hand. Shame you didn’t have the stomach to finish the job.”
“No…” Angela gasped, as Hugo forced her to the ground, and tore into her. Her white bowler hat rolled off of her head, and landed by my feet.
​
I could only watch impartially as he ripped her apart, and pulled her still beating heart from her chest. Angela stared at it with wide, tear filled eyes. She knew she was dying. And all she could do was mouth the words: “No… no… no…” over and over again before Hugo took a bite.
​
As he ate, I watched, pausing only to calmly walk over to the stairs to pick up his severed hand, as if it were something he’d dropped. When Hugo stood once more, I offered the hand to him.
“Thank you, Snow/” He crooned, casually popping it back into place, before wiping the blood off of his mouth.
“Of course, sir. Two more to go?”
“One, most likely,” He said. “Then we deal with Lapointe.”
​
I nodded, and let him lead the way. He paid Angela’s body little mind, leaving her in a growing pool of her own blood. I stared down at her remains, and looked into her lifeless eyes which stared up at the ceiling in horror. My eyes settled on the runed dagger she’d used to wound Hugo. It seems that in his fervor, he hadn’t thought to grab it. Fortunately, I was a good assistant and took care of that for him.
​
***
​
As we reached the bottom of the stairs, we were greeted by an almost predictable sight. The bloody remains of Daniel Hernandez lay scattered about on the ground, and sitting in front of them sat Koch.
​
He stared at Hugo, sizing him up before huffing.
“You’ve killed Angela?” He asked calmly.
“It wasn’t much of a chore,” Hugo replied. “And Daniel?”
Koch nodded.
“No chore,” He repeated.
“I thought not. Well, no point in standing on ceremony, is there? We’ve both got places to be, don’t we?”
​
Koch rose to his feet. He cracked his knuckles. I noticed a heavy iron hammer resting in his hands. An ancient weapon, decorated in runes of all sorts. It probably had a very interesting history to it, but he never explained any of that before swinging it at Hugo with all the grace of a raging bull.
​
The world around Hugo distorted, moving him out of the way of every swing. His body seemed to twist and duplicate, making him harder to track and harder to hit as he tried to find an angle of attack. Koch huffed in rage, before slamming his hammer into the ground.
​
A wave of pure energy tore through the room, knocking me off my feet, and sending Hugo crashing against a wall. Koch wasted no time in trying to crush his head into pulp, although Hugo simply dissolved through the wall to evade him, before manifesting behind him.
“A perfect challenge!” Hugo jeered. “But there’s only one throne, for one true God!”
​
A third arm, made of inky black energy manifested from Koch’s back, seizing Hugo by the throat.
“In this my friend… we are agreed.” Koch hissed. More arms grew from his back, seizing Hugo’s body and keeping him in place. He tried to phase through them, but somehow they still held him.
​
Koch’s body twisted and elongated, as his spine slowly adjusted itself so that he could face Hugo and raise his hammer over his head. Hugo stared up into his eyes, before opening his mouth and launching a beam of pure energy into Koch’s face. I heard Koch scream, as his skull shattered, smearing a shimmering dark liquid all over the ceiling.
​
Still… somehow I wasn’t sure if he was dead. His grip on Hugo was still strong, and no matter how hard Hugo fought, he didn’t seem to let go, not that Hugo seemed to want to get too far away from him. No, I watched as Hugo tried to push himself closer to Koch. I watched him drive his dagger into his chest, to try and pry out his beating heart.
​
More hands manifested from Koch to keep Hugo away, but he was so close. As Koch pulled him back from the gaping wound in his chest, Hugo’s limbs elongated as he reached for the mans beating heart to pry it free, and just as he triumphed and pulled it from his chest… I cut off Hugo’s hand again.
​
I saw his eyes widen with shock, but he didn’t utter a single word. As his hand and Koch’s heart fell, I snatched them both out of the air. My eyes burned into Hugo’s from behind my glasses, and I gave him a small, knowing smile before biting into the heart myself.
​
Koch’s entire body seized, but his grip on Hugo grew no weaker.
“Snow?” Hugo’s voice cracked, as the panic of realization set in.
​
I answered him… but not in my own voice. I spoke in the voice of Lauren Lapointe.
“I’ve always been of the mind that if you have the stomach to lift yourself above the rest of the cattle, then you deserve a seat at the butcher's table. But what are butchers if not themselves meat?”
​
My face shifted, revealing the visage I’d stolen. I imagined that the real Lauren wouldn’t have minded my borrowing it. She’d been the one who taught me the primal joys of bloodsport, after all, and I’m sure she would’ve loved watching a bunch of rich morons with delusions of grandeur butcher each other in the name of power.
​
Hugo on the other hand?
​
The look on his face was one of absolute horror as he quickly put the pieces together. He squirmed. He fought. He tried to get free. But I still had Angela’s knife in my hand, and he could do nothing to stop me from taking his other hand, disarming him in every sense of the word.
“No…” He cried, “No… Penelope… don’t! PENELOPE WAIT!”
Oh, first names now? He was desperate.
​
Not that it saved him.
​
And as he wriggled free of Koch’s dying grasp, he only found himself tumbling into mine, where his struggles could not save him as I cut into his chest, pulled out his panicked, beating heart… and took a bite.
​
***
​
There were no bodies left behind when I left the Atomium. No bloodstains or any trace of what had happened there. I saw to their disposal. I could feel the new power coursing through my veins… it was more than I’d ever felt before. It was strange. Exciting!
​
I’d thought the boost I’d gotten from the morsels I’d stolen from Hugo was intense, but this was on an entirely new level! Yet it wasn’t enough.
​
It would never be enough, not until I’d reached the top. If there even was a top.
​
I imagined I’d find out soon enough.

So I heard that if you check new releases, some authors make a book 99 cent or 1.99 prior to release to get more pre-orders. We like to save money right? Then we can read more mm romance books. I had a look on Amazon and managed to get the filter to do what I wanted, although it seems a little wonky.
Here are SOME I copied. I can't guarantee how long they'll be 99 cents or 1.99. Maybe they'll stay that price or they'll go up later. I don't know, but a few looked interesting,
{Key of Iron and Fate: (MM Spicy Romantasy Katherine A Darling.} 1.99 I'm getting make a deal with the fae vibes.
From blurb: If you like fated mates, spicy romance, fae, action/adventure, and guaranteed HEA, then you will love this book. This is a standalone MM romantasy with regency vibes and explicit scenes for adult readers only. Trigger warnings: violence, gore, swearing, and adult content. 🤑
{Bury Me Deep : (An MM Fantasy Romance) (Captive of the Prince Book 2) Julie Mannino} Only 0.99 cents August 11
I found book one farther in: {Lay Me Down: (An MM Fantasy Romance) (Captive of the Prince Book 1) also only 0.99. July 28th
Put together, I'm getting heavy Captive Prince vibes. I hope this is better because I have many issues with the Captive Prince series despite liking it.. From series blurb This is an enemies-to-lovers size-difference MM Fantasy Romance for mature readers. 🤑
{Worshipped by the Wolves: An M/M Fairytale Romance (Once Upon A Time) Kelly Lord}
Mm red riding hood! August 1st. Also only 0.99 M/MMM shifter omegaverse. Sexy wolf action. Nicely muscled man on the cover. 🤑
{Camera Shy: MM Dad's Best Friend Age Gap Romance (Trick of the Light) Abigail Hunter} 99 cents! August 1st
Dad's Best friend, work place. Looks like video blackmail (like make me more sexy videos or else) 🤑
{Shipwrecked with the Selkie: An M/M Mpreg Romance (Mythos Island Book 2) Cherry Pickett} 1.99 July 23rd
Poc guy , legendary monsters and island, treasure. Booty ahoy (lol) shipwrecked. Maybe they'll buy mm romance books with their treasure. 🤑
{Together By Accident: A Unique M/M Romance Zane Kulder} 99 cents July 16th
Skater, Hits LI with car by accident, past stuff coming back to bite mc in the back. 🤑
{Almost You : A Paranormal, Ghost Romance (Sunshine and Happiness) Skylar M. Cates} 0.99 cents July 15th
One MC is a ghost!! 👻 2spoopy4me.
From blurb: Almost You features ghost kink, amnesia, Bi-awakening, voyeurism, sensory play, size difference, hurt/comfort, spicy channeling, and mutual pining.
Thanks to those who go digging for the new stuff to make release lists and stuff, because all that copy/paste is kinda tedious. I have new respect for you. Enjoy these if any of you go book shopping now.

Hugo Wright sat across from me, portions of roasted heart on the small airplane table in front of him. I watched him skewer one on the prongs of his fork, before popping it delicately into his mouth. He chewed for several seconds, savoring the flavor, before swallowing.
​
“You know, we live in exceedingly interesting times, Miss Snow.” He said. “When I told people I was gonna be a billionaire by the age of 21, they laughed? Said it would never happen, and they were right, I suppose. But I didn’t let that discourage me. I took that pain and I used it as fuel. I persevered. By 22, I owned my first private jet. By 23, I could’ve retired and been set for life and by 26? That was when I truly made it. That was when I finally crossed that threshold and it was… it was brilliant. People said it couldn’t be done. And to most of them, it couldn’t. But, I’ve learned that the laws of ordinary people simply don’t apply to me.”
​
He popped another morsel of heart into his mouth. As he spoke I took down notes on what he said, as was expected of me. Technically as an executive assistant, biographer wasn’t part of my job description, but according to Hugo, my job was whatever he said it was. So ‘Personal Biographer’ had become one of my duties.
​
“So many people settle for ordinary. That’s all they can strive for. But a select few of us were destined to be more. More than ordinary, hell, more than people.” He chuckled, as he took another bite of the heart.
​
“Well said, sir,” I replied quietly. He cracked a smug grin, and I caught his eyes lingering on my legs. He didn’t say anything out loud, but I could hear what he was thinking loud and clear.
“Speaking of being ‘more than people’, which one is that you’re eating?”
“I believe the Grimoire called him ‘Õudus.’ One of the Grovewalkers. They are sufficient for a quick pick me up. Helps to keep my game sharp in between the more high priority kills. Every little morsel helps.”
“Of course sir.” I said. Whatever ‘Õudus’ had been, it certainly didn’t look appetizing. Then again, none of the things I’d seen Hugo summon for his little side project had seemed particularly appetizing… or edible. But he slaughtered and devoured them all the same.
​
“When Godhood is within one's grasp, then the correct answer is to seize it for oneself,” Hugo said, as he finished the last few bites. “That’s the only path that matters. Apotheosis.”
“Of course, sir,” I said again, although I couldn’t help but wonder just how grim a world with a God like Hugo would be.
​
Before I’d started working for Hugo, I’d heard rumors online about what some people were calling ‘The God Rush.’ Crackpot theories about billionaires pouring money into investigating the supernatural, hunting obscure deities and devouring their hearts in some mad effort to become Gods themselves. I hadn’t believed them at first, chalking them down as nothing more than another wild conspiracy theory. They’re a dime a dozen on the internet, after all. But I guess every now and then, the crackpots get it right.
​
In the four months that I’d been in his employ, I’d watched him summon things that logically should not have existed, and I’d watched him slaughter them with power no human should’ve ever been able to use. If I hadn’t seen it all with my own eyes, I would’ve thought it was all madness. But no. I’d seen enough of his unholy power to know that it was all too real. I even carried the ritual dagger he used to butcher them in his briefcase, like any other piece of equipment. Like being his personal biographer, catering to his delusions of grandeur (which seemed to be becoming less and less like delusions every day) was just another part of my job.
​
It was those growing genuine perceptions of grandeur that had us flying out of New York on a Thursday night into Belgium. Part of my job was to keep an eye out for any rare artifacts that might aid his pursuit of apotheosis and it just so happened that a particularly rare one was up for auction. Several pages of a grimoire known as ‘Liber Shaal’. A tome reportedly authored by the Devil herself supposedly containing ancient spells that were not meant to be cast within our world, and more importantly, containing summoning instructions for ancient entities long since forgotten by time. To Hugo, it was an a’la carte menu of fresh entities to devour. New stepping stones on his path to Godhood. Getting those pages was essential, and so we would be attending the auction.
​
On the bright side - I’d never been to Europe before, so if nothing else this was bound to be exciting! And so long as I focused on that, and not the fact that I was helping a lunatic with a God complex get closer to their goal of Apotheosis, all would be well.
​
***
​
We landed in the late afternoon, before taking a car over to the site of the auction. In what I could only describe as a testament to the decadence of the attendees, it was due to be hosted in the top floor restaurant of one of Brussell’s most iconic landmarks. The Atomium.
​
I had seen pictures of the building before - strictly as a curiosity, but seeing it in person was an entirely different kind of experience.
​
The Atomium was a surreal looking building, designed as the centerpiece of 1958 Brussels World's Fair, as a monument to Belgium's engineering prowess at the time. It had been made to resemble an elementary iron crystal magnified 165 billion times. (Hugo made a point to explain all the trivia to me as we drove closer.) It consisted of nine massive steel spheres, connected by steel tubes. How the whole thing didn’t collapse under its own weight was a mystery to me. But it stood, taller than it had any right to be.
​
The car dropped us off at the gate, where a man in a suit was waiting for us.
“Mr. Wright,” He said warmly, giving Hugo a nod as we drove closer. “I’m Mr. Cassel. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” Hugo said, as Mr. Cassel’s eyes shifted over toward me.
“My personal assistant, Miss Snow. She’ll be accompanying me, pay her no mind.” Hugo said coolly, answering his question before he asked it. Cassel gave a nod, and led us toward the building at the base of the lowest sphere.
​
While I imagine that normally, the Atomium might have been a hot tourist spot, at this late hour it was fully abandoned. It was almost a shame. If I’d had more time, I wouldn’t have minded stopping to browse the little exhibitions that dominated the first sphere, which seemed to function as one part art gallery and one part history museum. I wouldn’t have minded getting a chance to explore some of the other four accessible spheres, which according to the map I saw as we came in, hosted temporary exhibitions and special events.
​
Unfortunately - I never got that chance. We were here on business.
​
The Atomium’s restaurant was only accessible from the lowest sphere, via an elevator that ran straight from the lowest sphere, up to the top. I won’t lie - the elevator ride was a little harrowing. As we rode up through the cold steel structure, I could’ve easily fooled myself into thinking we were on our way up a mine shaft, as opposed to being on our way to an action for the obscenely rich. The only view from the elevator was the reinforced steel beams that kept the structure sturdy, although when the elevator doors finally opened, I was greeted with a sight more in line with what I’d been expecting of this place.
​
We stepped out of the elevator into an upscale restaurant area, with large windows showcasing the sprawling city and countryside around us. The tables and chairs had an almost futuristic aesthetic to them, and many of them were already occupied. The figures who had already arrived cast wary eyes toward Hugo and I as we joined them. He just glared back at them, his lips pulling back into a slight smirk.
​
“Evening,” He said, confident as ever.
“Was there anyone who didn’t hear about this auction?” A woman asked. She looked to be in her early thirties, and was dressed in an expensive snow white outfit that might not have looked out of place on a runway model. Her short blonde hair was delicately styled, and framed her face perfectly, and peeked out from beneath what I can only describe as a fashionable white bowler hat. I’d seen this woman’s face before, although only ever in a magazine.
​
Angela Champion… and yes, that was her real name. Champion was the current CEO of the Champion Fashion House, succeeding her father. She’d been a topic of discussion in recent months due to her attempts to start some sort of feud with the twin CEO’s of the Darling Fashion House, although said feud was fairly one sided, with the Darlings seemingly making a point to ignore her. Due to her larger than life online persona, people either saw her as the up and coming queen bee of the fashion world, or as a rich brat, chasing celebrity.
​
“What can I say? It’s a small world, Angie.” Hugo said wryly, sitting down at a table across from her.
“Clearly,” A man by the bar said. He was dressed relatively casually, in jeans and a t-shirt. I recognized him as well. Daniel Hernandez, although I knew very little about him, other than that his father owned a very large, very powerful food distribution company and had a net worth somewhere in the billions. “Guess you can’t have an auction without healthy competition, no?”
​
“I was led to believe that this was a private sale,” Another man said. He was somewhere in his thirties, with long, dirty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore aviator sunglasses despite it being nighttime.
“No such thing as a private sale, Georgie,” Hugo teased.
​
Georgie. That name made it all click. I had seen this man before, at a conference I’d accompanied Hugo to. This was George Barbier. The self proclaimed: ‘Final Boss of LinkedIn.’ Hugo had made me watch a few videos he’d made, talking about tips for entrepreneurs and wealth management. He’d supposedly made his fortune in luxury cars, although according to Hugo: “That cocksucker only makes money by making people think he’s some hotshot automotive executive.” so it was hard to say what the truth was.
​
“Clearly not,” Barbier scoffed.
“Don’t feel special. They told me something similar,” A second woman said. She sat by the bar, a few feet away from Daniel. I recognized her as well. Mary Williams. Like Angela Champion, I knew her by reputation. Williams sometimes featured in some podcasts I’d listened to, as one of, if not the wealthiest women in the world. She was the current CEO of one of the larger cosmetics companies. I’d heard her discuss her rise from poverty to wealth, pitching her life story as some sort of inspirational tale of overcoming great odds to attain limitless success, yet still remaining humble. Personally, I found her anecdotes a little tasteless. I’ve actually been homeless in the past. Williams described it all as an adventure she had overcome through the strength of her character and her own entrepreneurial ingenuity, rather than the miserable, nearly endless struggle that it was. It was condescending, to say the least. And despite her efforts to depict herself as some gifted heroine who’d risen above the rough hand life had dealt her, a lot of the controversy her company had come under for their laundry list of shady practices painted a different picture of the woman than her podcast interviews did.
​
Barbier huffed in agreement, before taking a sip of his drink.
“Oh come on. How many sellers have you met who wouldn’t be interested in driving up the price, a little.” Hugo teased. “Besides, your wallet can handle it, right?”
​
Barbier ignored him.
“A little underhanded, luring some of us here with a lie though, wasn’t it?” Angela asked. She glanced over at Cassel, who’d made his way toward the back of the restaurant.
“For the record, I wasn’t told about any other buyers either.”
“Well, I was.” Hugo said. “Had a feeling I might run into a few of you, too. Speaking of this lot, any idea what’s on the menu tonight?”
​
“Restaurant is closed.” A man sitting a short distance away said. His voice carried a very heavy German accent. While I knew most of the figures in this room, I didn’t know him. He was big in every sense of the word, looking almost as if he’d been poured into his plain brown suit. Every time he moved, I saw the fabric strain against his muscles. His jawline was chiseled, and his expression was stern. He had an undercut that looked like it’d been measured out with a ruler.
“Closed?” Hugo repeated.
​
The large man didn’t elaborate.
“Yeah. Would’ve ordered some goddamn h’orderves if it wasn’t,” Daniel replied.
“The bar’s still technically open,” Mary added.
“Technically…” Hugo repeated, before chuckling and standing up. “Well, how can I say no to that?”
He headed over behind the bar to fix himself a martini. He never asked me if I wanted anything, not that I was in the mood to drink.
​
I was surprised that no one in the room had commented about how odd all of this was. Lies told to get some of them there, an empty restaurant, an abandoned bar… most people probably would’ve had a few questions about that. But, out of the collection of LinkedIn’s finest in that room with me, not a single one of them thought to ask any of the questions anyone else probably would’ve asked. I suppose when your net worth is ten digits, critical thinking skills aren’t all that critical.
​
Mr. Cassel had disappeared somewhere near the back of the restaurant, and I glanced over to see him coming back toward us.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, ladies and gentlemen. But now that all of our guests have arrived, I don’t see much reason to delay tonight’s event.”
“About damn time,” Barbier huffed. “Let’s just get on with it. I’ll start my bidding at ten million.”
​
Cassel smiled, almost apologetically.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Barbier.” He said. “Tonight’s auction will function a little differently than you may be used to, but I’ll permit our host to explain as much.”
“You are not the host?” The Large German Man asked.
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Koch. But she’ll be connecting with us very soon.”
The German - Koch, nodded solemnly.
“Connecting?” Angela asked, before noticing a TV screen above the bar flickering to life. Her eyes narrowed as the image of a woman appeared on it. She was middle aged, with long auburn hair and plastic horn rimmed glasses. She wore a crooked smile, as if she knew something that nobody else did.
​
“Good evening, everyone. So glad everyone could make out tonight! My name is Lauren Lapointe and I have the privilege of being your host this evening!”
The moment she said her name, I noticed Hugo’s eyes narrowing. He clearly recognized her. To be fair, so did I. Lauren Lapointe had become a controversial figure in recent months, due to the allegations that she’d been involved in some sort of ‘snuff film, bloodsport’ conspiracy, broadcasting such things for wealthy clients, amongst other illicit services. I’d heard about the case… and was sure I wasn’t the only one who had.
​
“What the hell is this?” Barbier demanded. “Where’s the goddamn book! Where’s the Liber Shaal!”
“Well, according to the old folklore, buried somewhere in the depths of Hell.” Lauren admitted. “Although I have to say, that book is one hell of a conversation starter. Seems like it’s brought you all together, hasn’t it?”
“You don’t even have the book?” Angela huffed, standing up. “Then what the hell are we even here for?”
“The fact that none of you have figured it out yet is a little sad.” Lauren replied. “Come now, don’t be coy. I think all of you know why you want that book. You’re all special! You’re all a cut above your everyday average Joe, aren’t you? You’re the ones worthy of becoming Gods… aren’t you?”
​
A pregnant silence settled over the room. On the screen, I saw Lauren’s lips curl into a knowing grin.
“Yes, I know all about that. I know all about you. Feeding on the hearts of ancient, powerful things, just to drag yourselves a little closer to their level, abandoning your limited humanity to ascend to the echelons you were meant for. I know. And I admire that! I’ve always been of the mind that if you have the stomach to lift yourself above the rest of the cattle, then you deserve a seat at the butcher's table. But what are butchers if not themselves meat?”
“W-what…?” Angela’s voice was small, and I heard a slight tremble in it. Although she was the only one who seemed remotely put off by what Lauren had just said.
​
The rest…
​
Barbier.
Mary.
Daniel.
Koch.
Hugo.
They all sat in rapt silence, and I could see the gears in their heads turning. Lauren had gotten their attention and she had just introduced a very specific thought into their heads. A thought I don’t think had occurred to any of them before.
​
“How much power have you all claimed during your pursuit of divinity? Which of you is truly the closest to calling themselves a God? It’s an interesting question, isn’t it? And once you start asking that, maybe you’ll start asking how similar you’ve become to the things you’ve been feeding on… and what might happen if you were to remove the competition, as it were?”
Angela stood up.
“What the fuck?!” She snapped. “We’re not… we’re not gonna fucking eat each other, you sick cunt!”
​
Although she was alone in her protest. The others remained silent. I glanced over at Hugo. He stared up at the screen. I could only see the back of his head, but somehow I knew what the expression on his face would be. Lauren’s grin grew wider. She knew what they were thinking. And she seemed all too thrilled at just how trivial it had been to plant that idea in their minds. Angela remained stock still, her breathing getting heavier as she read the room.
“No…” She stammered, “No… no… you can’t be… don’t you see how sick this is? Killing those things is different! They’re THINGS! We’re PEOPLE! FUCK, WE CAN’T JUST EAT EACH OTHER!”
​
“Are you still people?” Lauren replied. “People are… small, insignificant little animals. We all know this to be true. But you… you’re not small, you’re not insignificant. You’ve made sure of that personally, haven’t you? You stand above the very shadows that lurk in the darkness, who’ve inspired fear in the minds of primitive, lesser men, and each and every one of you had drawn those demons out of the darkness, and taken their lives as if they were nothing more than meat at an abattoir. People can’t do that. But Gods can.”
​
The room remained silent. Even Angela was left speechless for a moment.
​
Almost dutifully, I quietly opened Hugo’s briefcase. I knew what was coming.
“Food for thought,” Lauren crooned. “And whoever’s left… well… you’ll probably have a prize just as good as anything you’d get from that old book, wouldn’t you? Five of them, specifically.”
​
Those words were what did it.
​
Barbier attacked first… moving in a way no human should’ve ever been able to move. The space around him seemed to distort as he drew one of the nearby tables closer to him, allowing him to snatch a steak knife off of it. He seemed to phase through the bar as he lunged for Hugo, pinning him against the wall, as he tried to drive his knife into his stomach.
​
The moment the carnage broke out, I heard Lauren burst out into laughter. She watched the chaos unfold from wherever she was hiding, and she reveled in it. As Barbier went for Hugo, Mary tried to do the same to Daniel.
​
I saw a ritual dagger, similar to the one I’d seen Hugo use, manifest in her hand. Her eyes locked onto Daniel, who looked down at that dagger and froze. He hadn’t come expecting a fight, and confronted with the reality of what was about to happen, he’d quickly lost his nerve. Mary lunged for him, and Daniel scrambled out of the way, only narrowly avoiding getting his throat torn open by her. Mary lunged for him again, although she didn’t get very far. Koch seemed to materialize out of the air around her, catching her by the wrist. I saw a surge of panic in her eyes as he plucked her arm off of her body the same way one might pull a wing off of a fly. She screamed and Daniel took the opportunity to flee, as Koch set to work disassembling Mary Williams.
​
Disassembling.
That’s really the only word for it.
​
As she screamed, he simply… pulled her apart. Not in the way a human might come apart, though. No. Her body broke in a way that I could only describe as ‘wooden.’ As if she wasn’t made of flesh anymore, but of something else. Although I couldn’t tell if that was Koch’s power, or her own power that did that to her. He gripped her by the shoulders and cracked her like a nut… snapping her body with an audible POP, that did not provide any kind of merciful end to her shrieks of agony. Then, with an almost casual lack of reverence, he plucked her beating heart from the quivering gore in her chest and bit into it.
​
Mary’s screams reached a crescendo, as he let her drop to the ground, writhing in her death throes. I saw her skin grow paler. Her eyes seemed to roll back into her skull as the warped state of her body seemed to catch up to her, leaving her gasping and shuddering in her final few seconds of agonizing consciousness.
​
I imagine that death was a mercy for her. Angela stood, rooted to the spot, looking at the sudden carnage that had erupted. Koch glanced over at Barbier and Hugo, still grappling behind the bar. He looked at me, before deciding I was of no importance to him, then he looked over at Angela.
“No…” She rasped, tears streaming down her cheeks. “NO!”
​
I wouldn’t have pegged her as the sanest person in the room, but clearly she was. She scrambled back, heading for the elevator. Daniel was already there, desperately hammering on the button, although the elevator didn’t come. Angela wasn’t stupid enough to wait patiently by his side. She scanned the space around her, before noticing a fire exit on the far side of the restaurant.
​
Then, without a second thought she sprinted for it, racing for the exit. She didn’t even bother opening the door, phasing through it with some sort of unnatural power. Daniel watched her go, and noticing Koch getting closer, chose to follow her. He didn’t quite have the power to just phase through the door, so he had to open it the old fashioned way. He tore down the stairs, before disappearing into the Atomium and Koch followed him.
​
It was just myself, Barbier and Hugo now.
​
The two men had tumbled over the bar, and seemed to have suddenly remembered that they were both God Eaters who didn’t need to restrain themselves to a simple fist fight, although they also weren’t smart enough to do much more than fight like a couple of 14 year old boys after science class.
​
Gravity seemed to shift around them, as they shoved each other across the restaurant, knocking tables and cutlery aside. I calmly stood and stepped out of the way as they tore each other to pieces, hitting each other with the kind of force you see in the third act of a mediocre superhero movie.
​
The brutality between them was actually a little boring. I’d watched Hugo kill far more formidable creatures, and Barbier didn’t quite live up to some of them. If this was ‘The Final Boss of LinkedIn’, then LinkedIn was awfully pathetic.
​
With one grunt of exertion (that was probably unnecessary) Hugo seized Barbier by the throat and hurled him through one of the glass windows of the panoramic restaurant. His eyes shifted over to me.
“SNOW! MY DAGGER!”
​
I dutifully tossed it into his waiting hand, right as time began to flow backward around us. Hugo glanced back at the window, before the dagger in his hand sank into the skin of his palm, merging with his flesh and vanishing from sight. Barbier rose back through the window he’d been thrown through, as the glass mended behind him. He landed on his feet in front of the window, lips curled back in a snarl.
“Is that the best you’ve got, Wright?” He snapped. “You think you can become a GOD? YOU THINK YOU CAN BECOME ANYTHING?” He stormed toward Hugo, who lunged for him only to be knocked to the ground.
​
“You always liked to talk shit, didn’t you… but look at you now? LOOK AT YOU!”
​
I noticed some of the silverware scattered about the mess of a dining room began to glow with heat. They melted and their molten components slithered toward Barbier, pooling at his feet before rising into a spear, reforged for the sole purpose of killing Hugo. Strange runes were burned into its metallic surface, and Barbier studied them, before grabbing the spear and advancing on Hugo. Hugo tried to stand, but Barbier reached him first, grabbing him by the back of his suit jacket,
“You’re out of your fucking depth, next to me! Now be a good boy, and DI-”
​
In one swift movement, Hugo pressed his palm against Barbiers chest, and his voice died in his throat. His eyes went wide as he felt the ritual dagger Hugo had hidden in his palm tear through his heart.
“You’d be out of your depth in a parking lot puddle…” Hugo snarled, before plunging his hand into Barbier’s chest.
​
“W-wait…” Barbier rasped, although Hugo didn’t listen. He tore his heart free of his chest, and pushed the man to the ground, leaving him twitching and staring vacantly up at the ceiling. Hugo smirked, watching him for a moment, before biting into his heart like an apple.
​
“Mmm… not bad…” He mused, before he waved a hand, almost dismissively. The room shifted around us. That which was broken, returned to where it had been before, repaired once more. In a few moments, it was like there’d been no skirmish at all. Everything was as it was, and George Barbier’s corpse was crumbling to dust where it lay, leaving no trace of him behind.
“Best not to cause a scene,” Hugo said as he finished off the last few bites of Barbier’s heart. “Snow, come,” He said. “There’s still three more to deal with.”
​
“Yes, sir,” I said quietly and followed Hugo as he headed for the stairs, Angela, Daniel and Koch had disappeared down. I noticed that Hugo had paid no mind to Mr. Cassel… who had conveniently disappeared when the violence had broken out. In fact, there wasn’t a trace of Mr. Cassel left in that dining room, almost as if he’d never existed in the first place. Hugo didn’t seem to think about it, so neither did I.
​
Of the nine spheres of the Atomium, I knew that only six were accessible to the public. The lower 5 spheres contained the exhibitions and event halls, while the topmost sphere, where we presently were, was the panoramic restaurant. The three spheres below the restaurant were less stable, which is why they were closed off to the public and the stairway leading to them was certainly a lot less glamorous than the stairways and escalators I’d seen going between the other spheres. They hadn’t dressed it up as much.
​
Hugo led the way down the stairs, moving with the calm confidence of a man who knew he was in no real danger, as opposed to the caution of a man being hunted.
“Keep up, Snow,” He said as we descended into the main part of the sphere. The space around us was wide open and almost completely unoccupied, save for a few cabinets for storage. There was only one dull light in the ceiling that didn’t illuminate much, and cast deep shadows in every corner that seemed to watch us. There were two exits, each one leading down into one of the more accessible spheres.
​
Hugo studied each exit, staring down the differing sets of stairs and listening closely for any indicator on which his quarry might have taken. I remained dead silent, letting him hunt.
“Blood,” He mused. “Smells like Koch has been busy.”
​
He took a step toward one of the stairways, before freezing, almost as if he detected something I didn’t. I saw his eyes go wide for a moment, before the shadows suddenly moved, collapsing in on Hugo like a cascade of water. He spun around, raising an arm to shield his face as I saw a figure materialize out of the inky darkness, a runed dagger in her hand.
​
Angela Champion brought her dagger down on Hugo’s arm, cutting through flesh and bone as if it were butter. His severed hand, still clutching his own dagger, hit the ground with a thud, and Hugo let out a cry of surprise, but not pain before Angela seized him by his shirt and hurled him toward the center of the sphere. Hugo picked himself up quickly, rising to one knee and glaring at the woman across from him.
​
“Well, well… getting into the spirit of things after all, aren’t we Angie?” He hissed. She just stood defiantly between him and the stairs, or perhaps between him and his own severed hand.
“I’m not going to kill you, Hugo. Not unless I have to!” She warned.
“Then you’ll die here with the rest.” He replied, rising to his feet.
“Which’ll include you, if you keep going the way you’re going!” She snapped. “Pull your head out of your ass for five seconds and think about the bigger picture here! This Lapointe woman, she didn’t just bring us together, to have us duke it out for the hell of it! We’re here because she wants what we’ve got!”
​
Hugo grimaced.
“You think I haven’t figured that out?” He asked. “It doesn’t matter. She’s just some mortal, biting off more than she can ever hope to chew.”
“Maybe. But after going through all that trouble to track us down, and lure us here with the promise of the Liber Shaal, something she knew none of us could resist, can you really be so sure she’s just a mortal?”
“How many hearts have you eaten?” Hugo asked coyly, taking a step toward her. “How much power have you taken, Angela?”
​
She didn’t answer that question.
“I can sense that it isn’t much, you know, not compared to some of the others here. Barbier was almost on my level, and that last one… Koch. Oh he’s going to be interesting. But you? You’re weak. I can feel it. You know I’m familiar with the work of Lauren Lapointe. Not intimately. But I know those who are. Nasty piece of work, that one. But mortal. Weak. Insignificant. I know of Lauren Lapointe. And I know we’re not up against a worthy opponent, we’re up against ourselves and one stupid woman with delusions of grandeur. Maybe she’s had a taste of violence like this before, pitting other, small, miserable things against each other like a child putting insects in a box to watch them devour each other. Maybe that’s made her feel strong. But she is nothing compared to the likes of us. And you are nothing compared to the likes of me…”
​
With every step, he inched closer. Angela held her ground for a few moments, before finally taking a step back and as she did, Hugo’s dagger erupted through her chest. Her eyes widened for a split second, as the dagger twisted and writhed through her ribcage, finally bursting free of her and landing in Hugo’s remaining hand. Still, despite the state she was in, she stood, swaying on her feet before he lunged for her, grabbing her by the throat.
“For what it’s worth, you did well to cut off my hand. Shame you didn’t have the stomach to finish the job.”
“No…” Angela gasped, as Hugo forced her to the ground, and tore into her. Her white bowler hat rolled off of her head, and landed by my feet.
​
I could only watch impartially as he ripped her apart, and pulled her still beating heart from her chest. Angela stared at it with wide, tear filled eyes. She knew she was dying. And all she could do was mouth the words: “No… no… no…” over and over again before Hugo took a bite.
​
As he ate, I watched, pausing only to calmly walk over to the stairs to pick up his severed hand, as if it were something he’d dropped. When Hugo stood once more, I offered the hand to him.
“Thank you, Snow/” He crooned, casually popping it back into place, before wiping the blood off of his mouth.
“Of course, sir. Two more to go?”
“One, most likely,” He said. “Then we deal with Lapointe.”
​
I nodded, and let him lead the way. He paid Angela’s body little mind, leaving her in a growing pool of her own blood. I stared down at her remains, and looked into her lifeless eyes which stared up at the ceiling in horror. My eyes settled on the runed dagger she’d used to wound Hugo. It seems that in his fervor, he hadn’t thought to grab it. Fortunately, I was a good assistant and took care of that for him.
​
***
​
As we reached the bottom of the stairs, we were greeted by an almost predictable sight. The bloody remains of Daniel Hernandez lay scattered about on the ground, and sitting in front of them sat Koch.
​
He stared at Hugo, sizing him up before huffing.
“You’ve killed Angela?” He asked calmly.
“It wasn’t much of a chore,” Hugo replied. “And Daniel?”
Koch nodded.
“No chore,” He repeated.
“I thought not. Well, no point in standing on ceremony, is there? We’ve both got places to be, don’t we?”
​
Koch rose to his feet. He cracked his knuckles. I noticed a heavy iron hammer resting in his hands. An ancient weapon, decorated in runes of all sorts. It probably had a very interesting history to it, but he never explained any of that before swinging it at Hugo with all the grace of a raging bull.
​
The world around Hugo distorted, moving him out of the way of every swing. His body seemed to twist and duplicate, making him harder to track and harder to hit as he tried to find an angle of attack. Koch huffed in rage, before slamming his hammer into the ground.
​
A wave of pure energy tore through the room, knocking me off my feet, and sending Hugo crashing against a wall. Koch wasted no time in trying to crush his head into pulp, although Hugo simply dissolved through the wall to evade him, before manifesting behind him.
“A perfect challenge!” Hugo jeered. “But there’s only one throne, for one true God!”
​
A third arm, made of inky black energy manifested from Koch’s back, seizing Hugo by the throat.
“In this my friend… we are agreed.” Koch hissed. More arms grew from his back, seizing Hugo’s body and keeping him in place. He tried to phase through them, but somehow they still held him.
​
Koch’s body twisted and elongated, as his spine slowly adjusted itself so that he could face Hugo and raise his hammer over his head. Hugo stared up into his eyes, before opening his mouth and launching a beam of pure energy into Koch’s face. I heard Koch scream, as his skull shattered, smearing a shimmering dark liquid all over the ceiling.
​
Still… somehow I wasn’t sure if he was dead. His grip on Hugo was still strong, and no matter how hard Hugo fought, he didn’t seem to let go, not that Hugo seemed to want to get too far away from him. No, I watched as Hugo tried to push himself closer to Koch. I watched him drive his dagger into his chest, to try and pry out his beating heart.
​
More hands manifested from Koch to keep Hugo away, but he was so close. As Koch pulled him back from the gaping wound in his chest, Hugo’s limbs elongated as he reached for the mans beating heart to pry it free, and just as he triumphed and pulled it from his chest… I cut off Hugo’s hand again.
​
I saw his eyes widen with shock, but he didn’t utter a single word. As his hand and Koch’s heart fell, I snatched them both out of the air. My eyes burned into Hugo’s from behind my glasses, and I gave him a small, knowing smile before biting into the heart myself.
​
Koch’s entire body seized, but his grip on Hugo grew no weaker.
“Snow?” Hugo’s voice cracked, as the panic of realization set in.
​
I answered him… but not in my own voice. I spoke in the voice of Lauren Lapointe.
“I’ve always been of the mind that if you have the stomach to lift yourself above the rest of the cattle, then you deserve a seat at the butcher's table. But what are butchers if not themselves meat?”
​
My face shifted, revealing the visage I’d stolen. I imagined that the real Lauren wouldn’t have minded my borrowing it. She’d been the one who taught me the primal joys of bloodsport, after all, and I’m sure she would’ve loved watching a bunch of rich morons with delusions of grandeur butcher each other in the name of power.
​
Hugo on the other hand?
​
The look on his face was one of absolute horror as he quickly put the pieces together. He squirmed. He fought. He tried to get free. But I still had Angela’s knife in my hand, and he could do nothing to stop me from taking his other hand, disarming him in every sense of the word.
“No…” He cried, “No… Penelope… don’t! PENELOPE WAIT!”
Oh, first names now? He was desperate.
​
Not that it saved him.
​
And as he wriggled free of Koch’s dying grasp, he only found himself tumbling into mine, where his struggles could not save him as I cut into his chest, pulled out his panicked, beating heart… and took a bite.
​
***
​
There were no bodies left behind when I left the Atomium. No bloodstains or any trace of what had happened there. I saw to their disposal. I could feel the new power coursing through my veins… it was more than I’d ever felt before. It was strange. Exciting!
​
I’d thought the boost I’d gotten from the morsels I’d stolen from Hugo was intense, but this was on an entirely new level! Yet it wasn’t enough.
​
It would never be enough, not until I’d reached the top. If there even was a top.
​
I imagined I’d find out soon enough.

Here's all of the jellyfish reflection transcribed for anyone who wanted to read it but don't have it. I apologize for inconsistencies in paragraph breaks and one or two spots where words got jumbled, as I used screenshot -> text to write it down, cleaned it to a readable state and am too lazy to fix it more thoroughly. Here ya go:
1.
Under the silent night sky, a flawless full moon hangs gracefully, casting its selfless light upon the forest below where countless beings reside.
Gazing at that unchanging and gentle glow, I let my body sink into the cold water of Lake Bovaly, allowing it to envelop my head.
It will be over soon.
A piercing cold seeps into my skin, jolting my senses to stay awake and suppressing the dark power that lurks within me.
During the new moon, the restless power within me reaches its peak. However, to prevent its outburst, I dive to the bottom of the lake every night, grappling with my inner demon.
The surface of the water recedes further and further from my sight. At this moment, the moon appears as nothing more than a floating speck of light.
But I still gaze at it, even though its light doesn't belong to me.
The line between light and darkness is clear. All the light in the world doesn't belong to me, who was born from the rift of the abyss.
But why can't I look away?
I don't have clear memories of my birth. My consciousness started in an endless darkness. I couldn't even tell if the chaos enveloping me was the environment that nurtured me or if it was part of my own being.
The tumultuous waves urged me to open my eyes, and as I did, I was greeted by the sight of a giant blue new moon.
It was like a colossal sickle piercing my body, while that image was etched deep on my mind forever remaining within me.
The sharp edge of the new moon cut through my soul, while the surging tide gushed, breaking the surface of the sea.
The innate powerful force, intertwined with biting pain, shaped my spirit and form.
A gentle call that came from afar slightly eased the pain. Subconsciously, I found myself following it, trying to find the source.
After an unknown amount of time, the bright moonlight lifted the night's veil, and a breeze washed away the bloody scent.
I walked out of the chaotic sea, set foot on solid ground, and arrived at a forest.
In this vibrant space, every green leaf sang a hymn to life. Water, answering to my beckoning, came to create streams, lakes, and waterfalls that adorned the vibrancy.
Despite it being my first visit, I felt I had returned to my true homeland. When I stood before the Tree of Life, a realization washed over me--I had finally discovered my origin.
I extended my hand to touch the branches of the Tree of Life. A dark grey mist emanated from my fingertips, seeping into the veins. In an instant, the once vibrant leaves wilted.
That day, Eusius, the Wind Elf, was the one who guarded the Tree of Life. They naturally perceived me as a perilous intruder and initiated a fight without hesitation.
Flustered and clueless, I summoned water to defend myself, but an unsettling dark power surged within me, compelling me to strike back relentlessly.
The battle raged on, eventually reaching Eusius garden, where their movement slowed down, as if a peculiar hesitation gripped them.
Eusius: Stop! Don't hurt these flowers!
This resounding call finally snapped me back to reality, but by then, a vast flow of water had already flooded a corner of the flower field
Arionus: I...
I knew how feeble an apology would sound at that moment, with words trapped in my throat. Before I could utter them, other elves quickly arrived and restrained me. I didn't resist.
The elves held a long discussion, and the verdict was announced by the eldest Wood Elf:
Tree Elf: O Water Elf, who traversed from the sea, you bestow a profusion of moisture upon the forest, a gift from the very lord of nature. Arionus, you may remain in the forest, for it is here that you shall fulfill your mission.
Tree Elf: Nevertheless, your power harbors tainted shadows that demand restraint. Venturing alone toward the Tree of Life is forbidden, as is entering the "Source Spring" within the depths.
The lake rippled as a pair of black wings skimmed across its surface, causing the reflection of the full moon to distort and shatter amidst the shimmering waves.
It was a Blood Bat, a creature that thrived in the darkness of the night.
Among the countless inhabitants of the forest, though all children of nature, some only appear after nightfall, and some can only gaze from afar at the Tree of Life.
Eusius and the others were born from the brilliant, unblemished white spring, while I came from the dark sea.
I was born to sense the dark currents lurking at the bottom of Lake Bovaly and witness the nocturnal reflection giving rise to black-winged entities.
While the other elves, who sing of purity and beauty, never cast their gaze onto the existence within the darkness.
I have long accepted the difference I was born with. I'm aware of the destructive power lurking within me, a force that elves should shun, and as a result I am destined to dwell alone in darkness. This destined fate can't be changed, only to be embraced. But..
Hephaes: Hello, Arionus. Nice to meet you. I am Hephaes, a Fire Elf! Did I scare you with my flame? Sorry, I'm still learning to control it.
Hephaes... was the one who made me question everything I believed.
The youngest Fire Elf has a pair of golden eyes that are more radiant than the morning sun filled with warmth and joy.
They are a child of light by nature, but on our first encounter, Hephaes bridged the apparent divide, approaching me with their gentle radiance.
The tempest within me has subsided, and as I emerge, a rustling sound echoes in the tranquil night. A few fire butterflies hide amidst the dense foliage, their tiny golden red sparks surprisingly vivid in the dark.
Their peeking reminds me of the one who always hides behind trees, stealing glances as I practice spells.
Arionus: Did Hephaes send you here to look for me? Go back and tell them I'm fine.
The spotted fire butterflies land gracefully on my fingertips, twirling around me in a playful dance of affection before taking their leave. I watch them fly into the depths of the night, their delicate flame dust leaving behind a glittering golden trail. The shiny particles dance elegantly under the moonlight.
Why can't I look away from the light that doesn't belong to me..?
Maybe l, born from the darkness, was always destined to long for the light.
2.
This year's rainy season lingers unusually long, and while it hasn't caused any floods, the elves remain concerned about Arionus' unstable powers.
Following Arionus' scent, I arrive at a swamp l've never seen before, where crows circle ominously.
Hephaes: Arionus, what are you facing alone again..
I once nearly drowned in the dark currents of Lake Bovaly. It was Arionus who saved me, and from that accident, I learned of Arionus' pain.
I believe, even now, Arionus is somewhere. silently protecting the peace of the forest.
Hephaes: I can't keep relying on Arionus to save me. I should proceed with caution.
Taking a deep breath, I steady myself to fly just above the swamp. The intermittent light from fire butterflies gradually disperses the fog, leading me to an open woodland.
To my surprise, I'm greeted by the sight of a giant mushroom, its cap towering like a tree's crown. And beneath it stands a familiar blue figure.
Arionus: Hephaes, it's very dangerous around here...
Arionus clearly didn't expect me to find this place, their face filled with surprise and worry. But l've already rushed up, bombarding them with a flurry of questions.
Hephaes: Arionus, how have you been? There were a few sudden heavy rains that stopped quickly. Did you have something to do with them?
Hephaes:And how can a mushroom grow so tall?! Is this a new spell you learned?
Arionus pulls me under the mushroom cap, avoiding a muddy puddle. They examine me closely, as if to confirm I'm unharmed, before finally easing up.
Arionus: When the rainy season started,I feared my unstable power might flood the forest's heart. So I found this distant wood where the marsh can contain the overflowing water.
Arionus: This mushroom.... was an accident. Never expected it to absorb so much water day after day and grow as towering as a tree.
Hephaes: Maybe it thought you were working too hard, so it wanted to grow tall quickly, offering you a shelter to rest.
Arionus has indeed been working too hard. I, too, wish they could find proper rest.
Arionus: I'm still not strong enough, only able to use such a clumsy method to transfer water. This swamp has endured too much in a brief span.
Arionus: A hefty burden will also harm the soil here. There is already a murky sediment that needs to be removed as soon as possible.
Hephaes: Let my power of flame help you.
Arionus: You've endured needless suffering, staying by my side as I suppress the Abyssal Power. Please, do not expend any more of your power on me
I softly call Arionus' name, interrupting them
Hephaes: Arionus, we're best friends, so it's okay for you to rely on me a bit more.
Fire butterflies gracefully emerge from my sleeves and hair. They landed on the swamp without heeding the filth, focused only on drawing the moist sediment from the soil.
After a long day's work, we finally find solace beneath the giant mushroom cap, enjoying a peaceful night's rest. When we wake up, the mist has dissipated, and the drizzle has subsided.
The early sun casts its radiant glow upon the woodland, connecting the clear sky and the glistening waters after the rain.
Hephaes:The rainy season is over, Arionus!
I pull Arionus along with me to the top of the mushroom cap, where a cool breeze caresses us. Feeling its refreshing touch, I can't help but tilt my head back and shake my hair.
Arionus: Hephaes, there are some raindrops left on your hair.
Water droplets from my hair sparkle in the sunlight. With a mere gesture of their finger, Arionus banishes the lingering rainwater, conjuring a small rainbow at the same time.
3.
Shroomie:Coo coo coo!
Under the mushroom tree, a group of Shroomies huddles together, infusing the once-serene swamp with lively energy.
Hephaes: Were there little Shroomies around here? It's just a single rain, and they're already everywhere-at this rate, they may soon take over the entire place.
Golden mushrooms emerge from the damp soil after the rain. The mischievous and voracious Shroomies playfully nibble on them, their large eyes gleaming with excitement at the newfound delicacy.
Hephaes: What? You're saying this golden mushroom can grant wishes?
The Shroomies nod vigorously. Watching the little creatures swinging with joy, I skeptically pick up a golden mushroom to examine it.
Hephaes: Hmm... The golden mushroom must've absorbed some flame, emerging as a new variety by accident..
Hephaes: Arionus, it's better not to eat it. After nibbling on it, the Shroomies started dancing in circles, looking all dopey. Something seems off..
Before I finish my sentence, I see Arionus taking a bite of the golden mushroom and chewing thoughtfully.
Hephaes: How could you just gobble it down like that?! What does it taste like? Do you feel anything weird?
Seeing my sparks flying all around as I panic, Arionus chuckles softly, teasing me instead.
Arionus: This is a gift from Hephaes the Fire Elf. It's safe.
However, soon after, Arionus appears to feel dizzy, shaking their head. Their figure sways before toppling in my direction.
Hephaes:Arionus, are you alright?!
I hurriedly support Arionus' shoulders. Their gaze becomes distant, veiled in a misty haze. I wave my hand in front of them, but their eyes remain fixed on emptiness.
Arionus: Fire butterflies... Did Hephaes send you? Quick, get out of here! The bottom of the sea is dangerous!
"Bottom of the sea?" I barely have time to process those words before Arionus abruptly rises, summoning a water orb and assuming a battle stance, their gaze fixed on the woods ahead.
I hurriedly conjure a fireball, dispersing the water before it reaches the trees.
Then, I grip Arionus' wrist, putting a halt to their attack. Surprisingly, Arionus' arm lacks its usual strength, easily restrained by me.
Hephaes: Arionus, this is a forest, and l'm right beside you. There's no danger.
I offer solace to Arionus until that cold, pale wrist warms up. Eventually, Arionus begins to relax their tense muscles.
Hephaes: Arionus, are you seeing things?
Arionus: I see nothing. This is where I was born, surrounded by nothing but the dark, cold seawater, endless... It's going to devour me.
I sigh, realizing Arionus has been seeing a hallucination. It seems the golden mushroom has hallucinogenic effects. What do I do now? How do I wake them? The little mushrooms sulkily lower their heads, hiding their faces under their caps.
Shroomie:Coo coo, coo... (Shroomies didn't lie. After eating the golden mushroom, everyone saw their wishes come true. Very happy...
Hephaes: Indeed, it is odd. The Shroomies' hallucinations manifested as dreams come true, while Arionus witnessed themselves being consumed by the Abyss.
Arionus: Dreams coming true... Yes... I saw it, a beautiful dream...
Unexpectedly, Arionus, lost in their hallucination, answers me
Hephaes: Being devoured by the Abyss... How could that be a sweet dream?
Arionus: I've thought about it countless times.. and now, this day has finally come.
Arionus insists that I look at the clouds and birds in the sky.
Arionus: Look, the sea is calm, the fish are playing, and wisps of smoke are rising from chimneys. Only I am vanishing into the Abyss; nobody is getting hurt. This is great.
Arionus: And you're by my side, Hephaes. Nothing could be better than this...
Arionus: At the time of my demise... I'm not alone. This must be the sweetest dream, right?
Arionus looks at me, a smile of contentment in their eyes. Veiled in the haze of hallucination, that smile somehow seems distant to me. That's when I realize that Arionus is indeed having a dream of their wish coming true. Arionus' wish, surprisingly, is not to cause any disaster upon their demise.
For some reason, my eyes grow warm, and Arionus' figure becomes blurred in my sight.
I thought that in Arionus' dream of wish coming true, they would find themselves blessed by the Tree of Life and living in the Spring with other elves.
Arionus is always reticent, rarely revealing thoughts. But even in a dream, Arionus still wishes to protect what they hold dear, even at the cost of walking into the darkness alone.
It remains discreet even as they yearn for just a touch of warmth.
Hephaes: What a wish you' ve held in your heart... Arionus, you won't vanish; you'll overcome the Abyss, and you should look forward to a brighter future.
Hephaes: No matter what, I'll always stand by your side--this has never been just a dream.
At that moment, Arionus seems to awaken from the hazy hallucination. Those clear eyes directly meet mine, showing a hint of bewilderment.
Arionus: Hephaes, are you crying? Did I say something weird just now?
I give Arionus a faint smile and deny it I with with a vigorous blink.
Hephaes: Not at all. It's just that your water has gone haywire and soaked my robe. Sigh... It seems like these golden mushrooms are not meant for casual snacking.
I turn to Arionus, beaming a big smile.
Hephaes: I'm very happy: Arionus, l've never believed that water and fire must stand against each other. Despite their differences, they share the same mission of protecting this land.
Hephaes: My fondness and affection for you come naturally. Being friends with you... it makes me very, very happy.
4.
After I pass the trial of the elves, the New Moon Scepter has strengthened my power, and my control over water has grown more proficient.
While I am still forbidden from entering the "Source Spring," Witnessing the joyful life of the beings inhabiting the forest waters and the thriving of the Water Elves is sufficient solace for me.
I'm now ready to return to that place of origin
Arionus: I'll be leaving the forest for a while to head to the distant sea. To free myself from the grip of the Abyss, investigating the place of my birth is necessary.
Sitting atop the Tree of Life, I gaze at the distant coastline. Hearing my decision, Hephaes shows a moment of surprise but soon gives me a nod of acknowledgment.
Hephaes: Have you discussed this with Eusius and the others?
Arionus: Yes. I've convinced them.
After I promised, "If my power goes out of control, I will never return to the forest."
Hephaes doesn't pry into the details. They seem happy for me, with vibrant flames dancing by their side.
Hephaes: Arionus, let me go with you.
Arionus: Huh?
Hephaes: Let's treat it as a trip of nostalgia. I'd love to visit your homeland in person.
Hephaes: You're not going to reject me, are you? We've agreed that l'll help you break away from the Abyss, so we'll face it together.
Hephaes' tone sounds light-hearted, but their gaze is firm. I know no words can persuade Hephaes to change their mind.
Arionus: Alright, but...
Arionus: The Abyss might be my origin, but it's not my homeland. A homeland should be a place where one finds solace and comfort.
I unconsciously soften my voice, my eyes fixed on Hephaes. Within their eyes, I see the reflection of both myselfand the expansive forest.
Hephaes: Then let's see it as a long journey between you and me. With our current powers, we'll overcome any dangers.
This sea area is forever shrouded in eternal night. The roars of tides and the restless shrieks of the Water Elves resonate throughout layers of fog.
Upon my return, the Abyssal Power lurking in the sea chasm has been more relentless, corrupting the Water Elves residing here. With their consciousness lost, they are consumed by frenzied battles.
Murky tides surge, transforming into colossal waves. I lift my New Moon Scepter, its azure glow crashing down like thunder, carrying my commands across every corner of the sea.
Arionus: The Water Elves are the rulers of the sea. Heed the call of the new moon, and join me to liberate your souls!
Under my command, the Water Elves awaken, their once-shaded eyes now illuminated by a radiant azure light.
In their clear and melodious voices, they call out my name. Transforming into various forms, they fearlessly plunge into the tumultuous waves and engage in fierce battles.
Yet the source of the storm persists-a dark tide originating from the depths of the sea. Deep inside, I know I'm the only one who can reach it.
I look back and gaze at Hephaes, whose body radiates a luminous glow akin to a brilliant torch in the boundless cold night.
Holding the Holy Grail, Hephaes' eternal flame gleams like the morning sun through the storm, guiding ships lost in the fog and sheltering affected creatures.
Hephaes' calm and resolute gaze meets mine across the surging waves.
In that fleeting moment, the ceaseless clamor of the sea seems to hush, and Hephaes' voice is the only sound that reaches my ears.
Hephaes: I'll be waiting for you on the shore.
I no longer hesitate and rush into the eternal darkness of the night.
Dark seawater and thick fog intertwine, spiraling into a vast vortex-a passage to the sea chasm, also the eye of the Abyss.
Clutching my New Moon Scepter, I spread my arms and leap into it.
Dark tides surge ceaselessly, trying to ensnare me within their grasp. An unprecedented* courses through my body, like thousands blades piercing my flesh.
I hold my breath, concentrating all my strength to resist this fierce erosion. A massive chasm stretches across the bottom of the sea.
It finally dawns on me that the image of the new moon etched on my mind at my birth is, in fact, the reflection of this very chasm. It gazes at me, mocking my resistance, intending to drag me into the doom of nothingness.
Both the storms raging on the surface and the undercurrents stirring from below converge like sharks drawn to prey, gravitating toward me.
Perfect.
In an instant, the blue gem adorning the tip of my scepter erupts into a radiant light, piercing through the tumultuous darkness of the night.
Having broken free from the eternal night's cage, I stand atop the clear waves and overlook the shadows dissipating in the light.
A blue radiance forms a massive seal within the rift. As the winds subside and the waves grow tranquil, the true new moon rises in the night sky.
Henceforth, the era of chaos and savagery in the Evernight Sea comes to an end. The sea is no longer only defined by storms and tumultuous waves, but also by the ebb and flow of tides that shift with the new moon.
Hephaes: Such a beautiful moon.
Hephaes and I sit back-to-back on the rocks. Hephaes' eyes are filled with wonder and joy as we witness the new moon rising over the Evernight Sea for the very first time.
Arionus: Unfortunately, every time the new moon rises, the power in the rift still needs to be released periodically.
Arionus: The seal can only suppress its influence, preventing it from harming nearby beings.
Hephaes: Well, why not think of it this way?
Hephaes: It's precisely because of the new moon that people can prepare for the storm before it arrives, and enjoy the tranquil moonlight after it passes.
Hephaes: The new moon offers guidance, and redemption.
A fire butterfly gently caresses my cheek as if offering encouragement and comfort.
On the shore, the lighthouse casts a warm glow, like a tender gaze that has long watched over the sea.
Arionus: Guidance and redemption... Hephaes, that sounds more like what you've done. That lighthouse was created by you just now, wasn't it?
Hephaes: You saw it! An eternal flame is burning inside, ensuring that even amidst fog and storms, fishing boats can find their way back as long as it remains lighted.
Arionus: Thank you, Hephaes. The Evernight Sea may forever be shrouded in darkness, but with this lighthouse, it feels like we have our own sun now.
Hephaes: Now it's like both the sun and the moon hanging in the sky, a truly remarkable miracle. Hey, Arionus, we created a miracle!
As Hephaes' cheerful tone reaches my ears, my worries begin to dissipate. The light of the new moon intertwines with the lighthouse's radiance, blurring our reflections on the sea surface.
Hephaes: Actually... I believe that one day, the Evernight Sea will see the real sun.
Hephaes' voice is soft but carries a profound conviction.
Hephaes: Because you are growing stronger, Arionus. If you can completely seal the shadows one day, the night here will likely end, and the sun will rise the next day.
Arionus: Ah..
I wanted to deny this wish that seemed too bold but for some reason, I didn't.
Perhaps deep down, I do harbor such hopes, buried under countless cold, dark moments long ago. However, Hephaes always can ignite the spark of hope within me.
Hephaes: Arionus, you're also imagining the sunrise over the Evernight Sea right now, aren't you?
Arionus: How... how did you know?
From behind, Hephaes' chuckle fills the air, and I can't help but let out a sigh, admitting that Hephaes has seen through my thoughts.
Arionus: I'll give it a try, finding a way to completely stop the erosion of the Abyss.
Hephaes: It's okay, Arionus. Even without a sunrise, the glow of the lighthouse will continue to illuminate the sea... And I will.. always be by your side..
Hephaes' voice takes on a nasal tone as it lowers, and I can sense their steady breathing through the thin layers of clothing. He must be tired.
Arionus: Good night, Hephaes.
Under the tranquil night sky and clear moonlight, the sea is serenaded by the soft lullaby of the tide.
5.
"Finding a way to completely stop the erosion of the Abyss"--I've actually been investigating and planning this for a long time.
The bottom of Lake Bovaly connects to the Ocean of Memories, meaning the abyss could erode the roots of the Tree of Life through the lake bed. According to plan, l've finally become strong enough to seal the rift closest to the Abyss in the Evernight Sea, and this will weaken the influence of the Abyss.
This is the best opportunity. The power of my "seed" has grown to its peak.
With that power, I may stand a chance against the Abyss and completely sever the connection between the Abyss and the tree roots.
But I'm hesitating... for many reasons.
After pacifying the Evernight Sea, I've been traveling between the sea and the forest, ensuring the stability of the seal.
I suggested that my people relocate to more secure waters and let Flo help some of them find a new home in the forest.
But most chose to stay, using their skills and wisdom to build their own cities and civilizations over time.
I respect their choice. Water Elves should be free, unbound in form, wandering through the vast world.
Hephaes once said they envy the Water Elves, because they and other elves will become weakened once they leave the forest.
After returning to the forest from the Evernight Sea, Hephaes has rested for many days in the Magma Mine. In the silent slumber, the flames around them seem dimmer than usual.
Whenever I recall Hephaes lending their power to the lighthouses at the coast, warmth washes over my heart, and I want to do something in return. Perhaps I can build a unique residence at the sea bottom, allowing Hephaes to enjoy their time in the Evernight Sea freely and comfortably.
I summon the dwarf craftsmen to the mine. They've always acted reserved and polite before me with Hephaes around, but now the entire mine is oddly silent.
But when I present my idea, the dwarves' eyes light up.
Dwarf Riem: Fascinating! Forging a container that the deep sea's pressure won't crush!
Dwarf Salm: If with Lord Hephaes' flames, we'd find the optimal formula much quicker.
Arionus: This is a gift, so we can't ask Hephaes for help. Make sure not to let Hephaes know about this, or...
Before I can utter the words "or it would spoil the surprise," the dwarves hastily assure me that they will keep the secret.
They might have mistaken my intention for a dreadful threat, but seeing that the goal of maintaining secrecy is achieved, I simply nod in agreement.
I've also received my first invitation to the Flower Feast. By appeasing the Evernight Sea, I've proved myself and had the faith of the God of Water known by more people. As favorable weather graces the forest, the attitude of the elves toward me has softened considerably.
At the feast, Eusius doesn't oppose my presence. By their side stands a young elf, who greets me with a smile and a nod. The elf is named Aloysius, born in response to the beauty of nature.
Eusius and Aloysius are close. Perhaps because Aloysius was born in the lakes, Eusius has tempered their demeanor toward me in Aloysius presence.
In these unprecedented tranquil moments, the rivers shimmer with vibrant hues, and the breeze carries the scent of sunlight.
It feels as if the future Hephaes envisioned is not so distant from our grasp. I start to imagine that perhaps we do not need such drastic measures after all. Instead, by diligently preserving the current stability, we might still be able to protect the Tree of Life.
But my hopes and my wishful thinking eventually cannot prevent the arrival of "fate."
At the end of the feast, a leaf from the Tree of Life gently lands on my shoulder. Within it, I discern the familiar presence of dark shadows flowing through its veins.
Hephaes: Arionus, why are you spacing out? The weather's great today, and the flowers bloom even more upon your arrival.
Hephaes brushes off the leaf with a smile, not noticing anything unusual. Bathed in this warm sunlight, a chill envelops me, as if I have stumbled into an icy cave.
I recall the initial panic upon my arrival in the forest, unintentionally eroding a branch, the plans I set aside, and the clues I deliberately ignored.
I've detected the shadow of the Abyss within the waterways. It seems to have infiltrated the elves' barrier and reached the roots of the Tree of Life.
Hephaes mentioned the concerning state of the Tree of Life. Despite the postponed feast, there was a noticeable decline in the number of flowers blooming- All clues align to one conclusion: the Abyss has reached the Tree of Life and begun its erosion.
With Hephaes' help, I quickly put my plan into action. However, fate plays a cruel prank on me. Never in my wildest imagination have I expected that as the power from the erupting seed successfully seals the rift in the Spring, the Abyss would shift its focus toward me.
Devoid of my soul, I have no strength to defend myself. Facing the accusations of the elves, a moment's hesitation allows the abyss to exploit my vulnerability.
I should be able to maintain my composure, but waves of dark emotions surge within me. The black currents envelop me, growing deeper and turning into a fierce assault.
To avoid irreversible consequences, I have no choice but to leave the forest and head towards the distant seas.
The deep and turbulent sea seems to be brewing a storm again. I yearn to shield myself from the relentless whispers of the Abyss that echo in my ears, but the anguished cries of my people carried within make it impossible to ignore.
Arionus: Why does everything I protect still fall into the abyss of pain?
The thick night sky opens its profound eyes, and under its gaze, the vast sea churns with towering waves. For the first time, I hear a voice from the Star Sea.
Voice from the Star Sea: Water Elf, this is your destiny.
Voice from the Star Sea: You are the cursed child of the Abyss, destined to fall into it. Your blessings will turn into curses, your protection into a cage.
The moment the voice sounds, I realize it's the god of nature who resides above the Star Sea. Only they possess the power to effortlessly dominate my will, compelling me to gaze upward in acknowledgment of their presence and to heed their words.
However, prior to this moment, they had never bestowed any revelations upon me. It is difficult to fathom how, in the face of the plight of beings, they can maintain such aloofness.
Arionus: The Abyss' erosion will eventually destroy this land, and your people will face calamity. Are you going to do nothing about it?
The god chuckles disdainfully.
In the void, they reveal ruins and remnants in a torrent, where the tears of the saintess had long dried, leaving only an abyss of despair in her hollow eyes.
Delmond, the kingdom I had once blessed, has been obliterated under the deep sea's curse.
Voice from the Star Sea: The rise and fall of existence is a mere fleeting moment.
Voice from the Star Sea: If insignificant beings attempt to challenge the authority of the gods, the arrogant humans shall inevitably reap the fruits of their hubris.
Voice from the Star Sea: Pitiful child of the Abyss, I respond to you because you made the right choice, protecting the sacred forest.
Voice from the Star Sea: You shelter humans with impure power, igniting their greed and accelerating the decay of this despicable civilization.
Voice from the Star Sea: The Abyss is but a mire to contain filth, and it is only fitting that scum finds its home in the mire.
Their words rang with arrogance and scorn as if they believed they had generously bestowed a gift.
Arionus: It turns out the god of nature never saw us as children but as scum that can be discarded at any time.
Arionus: So you think the Abyss will never threaten the Star Sea, and you can forever watch from high above as we struggle and perish?
I sneer and raise my New Moon Scepter
Arionus: One's origin does not determine their destiny, whether it's me from the Abyss or the god from the Star Sea.
The god pauses momentarily, followed by a derisive laugh.
Suddenly, thunderous roars from above reverberate, displaying their wrath and formidable might, with the intent to annihilate me.
Arionus: No longer constrained by an inherent curse, I will not plead for the Star Sea's mercy. I will exert my will and do everything within my power to alter the fate-scripted ending.
With determination,I point the New Moon Scepter at myself, its radiant light seemingly tearing my soul apart.
The dark shadows within me unleash an anguished howl. And in that moment, I break free from the god's grip, plunging into the sea.
The fall seems to stretch on indefinitely. In the tumultuous waters, bubbles ascend like echoes of my soul, carrying fragments of memories from the past that flicker before me one after another.
When I followed my heart and walked out of the chaotic night..
When Hephaes embraced my filth, l, too, opened my heart to embrace the light and warmth.
When we joined hands to appease the storm and listened to the breath of the tides together, I made a promise in my heart to witness the first sunrise at the end of the eternal night with Hephaes.
It turns out I have always been chasing the light
Arionus: I will never yield to the Abyss.
Even if it takes my eyes, occupies my body, and contaminates my mind, I will hold onto the will to protect until the very end, fighting against fate one last time.
With my battered body, I stay above the rift and build the final bastion against the dark tides of the Abyss. The shadow of the Abyss finds itself locked in a stalemate against my will, unable to fully breach the seal.
I've lost the sense of time. As my consciousness grows numb, on the brink of being consumed by darkness, a gentle warmth traces down the corners of my eyes.
Tears fall into the sea, perhaps to be forever lost in the depths and concealed from the knowledge of others, like my unfulfilled wishes and regrets.
Have I failed in the end?
My eyes, though already obscured by darkness, sense a faint glimmer. Like a fragile candle flame that bravely persists in a gust, it flickers amidst the tumultuous currents.
They rise on light bubbles, transforming into light, transparent little beings. So tiny, yet so resilient.
I watch them leap into the whirlpools stirred by the dark tide, their tiny bodies radiating with a dazzling white light, purifying the somber waves into clear streams.
I remember countless painful and silent nights when I lay at the cold lake bottom, looking up at the delicate yet eternal moonlight that wasn't mine. But this time, I'm the one who created this tiny yet resilient light.
Hephaes: As long as the heart that wishes to protect is pure, the power used for protection is also pure. Arionus, I will always believe in you and always stand by your side.
Arionus: Hephaes, I did it.
In the depths, my back is turned to the Abyss. My body descends into the veil of darkness. Yet my soul, untouched by any stain, embraces the light above.
End
*idk what this was supposed to say

Israel was separated out from the nations (gentiles).

The nation of Israel began with Abraham, who himself was a gentile. His father was even an idol maker. Abraham was given a promise from God that his descendants would be as numerous as the stars. Circumcision was a physical sign that Abraham had gone from gentile to something else, a Hebrew. Hebrew was the first term used to describe this separation. The promise was inherited by Abraham's son Issac (not Ishmael), then Isaac's son Jacob (not Esau). With Jacob the term identifying the promise changed to Israel, and from them on all the descendants we're automatically included in the promise.

The Exodus

Abraham was also told that his descendants would be enslaved for 400 years but that God would also rescue them for a purpose.

Then the LORD said to Abram, “Know for certain that your offspring will be sojourners in a land that is not theirs and will be servants there, and they will be afflicted for four hundred years. But I will bring judgment on the nation that they serve, and afterward they shall come out with great possessions. As for you, you shall go to your fathers in peace; you shall be buried in a good old age. And they shall come back here in the fourth generation, for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet complete.” Genesis 15:13-16 ESV

God was going to use Israel to drive out the wicked people of the land.
Fast forward to the book of Exodus and you have the enslavement of Israel and many other nations of people by the Egyptians. YHWH, the God of Israel, sends the plagues on Egypt as a judgement against their many gods and to show the world his power and authority. When Israel left Egypt there was a mixed multitude of people that went up out of Egypt with Israel.

And the people of Israel journeyed from Rameses to Succoth, about six hundred thousand men on foot, besides women and children. A mixed multitude also went up with them, and very much livestock, both flocks and herds. Exodus 12:37-38 ESV

These people didn't just run off. They stayed and worshiped YHWH alongside the physical descendants of Jacob! They had been there and witnessed the power of God. Word traveled and many nations (goyim) were terrified of the Israelites because of their God who does these amazing things.
Now Israel was led by Moses to Mount Sinai. There were Goyim that stood at the mountain and shouted their allegiance the same as the Israelites did!

So Moses came and called the elders of the PEOPLE and set before them all these words that the LORD had commanded him. All the PEOPLE answered together and said, "All that the LORD has spoken we will do." And Moses reported the words of the people to the LORD. Exodus 19:7-8 ESV

The elders of the PEOPLE, not just Israel. ALL the people who choose to follow the God of Israel were there and dedicated themselves WITH Israel. They stayed with Israel the 40 years in the wilderness. They were no longer goyim, they no longer identified with their national God's, they no longer identified with their country, the had become Israelites. "Your God will be my God, and your people will be my people"

The Covenant Renewal Entering The Land

After the 40 years in the wilderness Israel is about to enter into the promised land, so they have a covenant renewal ceremony with the new generation. The covenant renewal in Deuteronomy 29 specifically includes gentiles again and goes as far as calling them "his people". "His people" has always been those who follow YHWH in obedience. That's what determines who is an Israelite.

Therefore keep the words of this covenant and do them, that you may prosper in all that you do. "You are standing today, all of you, before the LORD your God: the heads of your tribes, your elders, and your officers, all the men of Israel, your little ones, your wives, and the sojourner who is in your camp, from the one who chops your wood to the one who draws your water, so that you may enter into the sworn covenant of the LORD your God, which the LORD your God is making with you today, that he may establish you today as HIS PEOPLE, and that he may be YOUR GOD, as he promised you, and as he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. It is not with you alone that I am making this sworn covenant, but with whoever is standing here with us today before the LORD our God, and with whoever is not here with us today. Deuteronomy 29:9-15 ESV

Does God have a separate law, something different for gentiles versus his people Israel? No.

Every native Israelite shall do these things in this way, in offering a food offering, with a pleasing aroma to the LORD. And if a stranger is sojourning with you, or anyone is living permanently among you, and he wishes to offer a food offering, with a pleasing aroma to the LORD, he shall do as you do. For the assembly, there shall be one statute for you and for the stranger who sojourns with you, a statute forever throughout your generations. You and the sojourner shall be alike before the LORD. One law and one rule shall be for you and for the stranger who sojourns with you.” Numbers 15:13-16 ESV

So you can see here that the plan from the beginning is INTEGRATION. One people united by a common law to worship the God of their nation. That nation is Israel.

In The New Testament

Jesus

Does the new testament say anything different? Lets look at what Jesus said and how he responded in Matt 15 concerning a gentile woman.

And Jesus went away from there and withdrew to the district of Tyre and Sidon. And behold, a Canaanite woman from that region came out and was crying, "Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is severely oppressed by a demon." But he did not answer her a word. And his disciples came and begged him, saying, "Send her away, for she is crying out after us." He answered, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But she came and knelt before him, saying, "Lord, help me." And he answered, "It is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs." She said, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." Then Jesus answered her, "O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire." And her daughter was healed instantly. Matthew 15:21-28 ESV

Here Jesus was NOT going to help this woman UNTIL she proved and qualified her faith, that her faith was in Jesus as her MASTER. In that instance she showed her allegiance and it was to Jesus whom she recognized as the Son of David, the King of Israel.

What about Acts 15?

In acts 15 most people point here to say that the gentiles were only given 4 laws to follow, which would completely be inconsistent with our pattern here. Lets look at what James had to say there.

After they finished speaking, James replied, "Brothers, listen to me. Simeon has related how God first visited the Gentiles, to take from them a people for his name. And with this the words of the prophets agree, just as it is written, "'After this I will return, and I will rebuild the tent of David that has fallen; I will rebuild its ruins, and I will restore it, that the remnant of mankind may seek the Lord, and all the Gentiles who are called by my name, says the Lord, who makes these things known from of old.' Therefore my judgment is that we should not trouble those of the Gentiles who turn to God, but should write to them to abstain from the things polluted by idols, and from sexual immorality, and from what has been strangled, and from blood. For from ancient generations Moses has had in every city those who proclaim him, for he is read every Sabbath in the synagogues." Acts 15:13-21 ESV

James expected the Gentile people to CONTINUE in their faith journey by learning Moses in the synagogues. Now saying "Moses" is a colloquial way to say the Torah. James' message is one of INTEGRATION, not separation. James expected these people to join with the Israelite people to worship with them at synagogue!

But what about Paul?

Paul is no different. Paul also has Romans 11 saying the gentiles are grafted into the tree of Israel, but more powerful and plain is his words in Ephesians 2.

Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called "the uncircumcision" by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands-- remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility. And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are FELLOW CITIZENS with the saints and members of the household of God, Ephesians 2:11-19 ESV

Paul says here that if you put our faith in Jesus as your messiah then you become FELLOW CITIZENS in Israel! It can't get any more plain than this!
So, in conclusion, both old and new testaments agree that if any gentile person wishes to worship the Creator God presented in the bible, who's personal proper name is YHWH, then Gentiles are to DENY any of their former pagan worship practices and JOIN with Israel to worship God in the way that He has instructed in His Law. That's the purpose of Israel, to be a nation of HIS people. Read Jeremiah 31 where the "New Covenant" is outlined and quoted from in Hebrews 8. Who is the covenant made with? Are gentiles included? Not at all. Why? Because to join in this covenant you have to leave behind your gentileness in favor of becoming an Israelite!

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Patreon Official Subreddit Series Wiki Royal Road
Two items — a crystal ball, and a green leather-bound notebook — sat benignly and idly atop of the black-robed professor’s desk.
The camera lingered on them, giving them what most may see as an undeserved moment in the spotlight.
But to those that knew, to the parties invested in this controversy, this little pause and dramatic zoom-in was accompanied by a hair-raising excitement… along with an untempered nervousness for what was to come.
It definitely caused the investigative duo on the other side of the screen some pause for thought; prompting them to stand intently, pondering both the orb and the notebook.
Ilunor, as far as I could tell, was entranced by the green notebook in particular. Though it wasn’t a trance born out of any positive emotion, but instead, one of abject horror.
“Recommended Reading Materials for the Studious Student.” Sorecar announced with a steady breath, prompting Ilunor to visibly flinch in his seat, as the man reached a finger over to point at the hand-scrawled title of the leather-bound notebook. That finger soon found itself carefully manipulating its pages, opening the cover first, before turning over the internal dust-cover to reveal letters and symbols written in High Nexian, but arranged in a manner the EVI simply could not translate.
“Error: Unable to Translate. Cause: Unrecognized and/or unintelligible organization of local script-forms.”
Yet despite this, it seemed as if both Sorecar and the Apprentice were able to draw something from its otherwise senseless pages. As despite being written haphazardly, with letters and pictograms arranged in no meaningful order, they were able to still draw meaning where the EVI couldn’t.
“Within these pages lie materials for the studious student. Materials are to be found within The Library, and are to be retrieved with great haste. May you make swift work of their contents, and may those after you find only ash in your wake. Seek, unlearn, and remove from the grip of the eternal entity, that which was once a gift but is now a curse. Seek, unlearn, and remove; with the fires of your passion, oh studious student.” Sorecar read aloud, managing to read something verbatim from the nonsensical pages of the book.
Ilunor’s eyes were practically glazed over at this point, as he began bringing his cape over across his chest, tucking his legs towards his chin in the process.
“This is it.” The apprentice announced with a half-cracked smile. “Please, keep going. I’m certain your skills of appraisal far exceed my own, Professor.”
Sorecar obliged by flipping the page, turning over to two pages of complete gibberish, once again watermarked by the EVI’s error message; but proving no challenge at all for the ever-inquisitive professor.
“Section One, A Tainted Reality: A Wretched Collection of Historical Affidavits During the Reconciliation and Reformation of Otherwise Lost Realities.” Sorecar paused, before turning towards the apprentice. “It lists an entire section’s worth of books, in titles held within spatial positions with reference to their potentialities within the ever-evolving library.”
Thacea’s features visibly flinched at that revelation, but similar to the apprentice in the footage, she refused to comment. At least not for now. Her eyes however betrayed a look of mild distress, which subsided somewhat as the apprentice urged the armorer to continue.
Which he did, as he flipped from page to page across the relatively small notebook, only pausing to read in between what he interpreted to be different sections and ‘chapters’.
“Section Two. The Unspoken War and the Treacherous Alliance.”
“Section Three. All surviving works from Alaroy Rital.”
The apprentice cocked her head, as if trying to recall some familiarity in that name. “Alaroy Rital.” She repeated. “I don’t recall hearing of such a name before.”
“Well his full name, as far as I recall, and vastly aided by the book is as follows: Alaroy Rital, Lord-Mayor of the Township of the Two Rivers, Slayer of the Dragon of the Grey Canyon, Repeller of the Tainted Blight of the Orsin, Liberator of the Aether, and Grand Master of the Elusian Guild Hall of Adventurers.” Sorecar responded succinctly, prompting the apprentice to once more clench her eyes shut in deep thought, before finally letting out a sigh of defeat.
“The name is both familiar yet foreign at the same time.” She finally admitted.
“As far as I recall, and mind you, my memory of those years are far from perfect… the man was a local hero of sorts. Though his record was besmirched by some controversy or another.” Sorecar offered, prompting the apprentice to finally shrug, giving up on this particular subject matter entirely.
“There are more sections, yes?”
“Correct.”
“Then let’s move on.”
Sorecar nodded promptly at that, flipping the pages over until he hit the next section.
“Section Four. A Sordid Account of the Most Bizarre of Newrealmer Arrivals: A Death By Harmonization and the Ensuing Investigation.”
That immediately got my attention, causing me to jolt forwards, prompting the armor to quickly follow as it automatically switched from the currently active in-armor-postural-readjustment mode, and back into its active configuration.
“Section Five. The Unfortunate Procedures Against Unruly Realms and the Instances in Which Such Procedures Were Incurred.”
The armorer paused after that, not necessarily due to its contents, but as if puzzled by what lay ahead in the next few final pages. In fact, he flipped back and forth between the pages soon after that, treading and retreading what were effectively the last five pages of the book. “There is an appendix which includes titles not covered by these sections, however it will take some time to read through them.”
“That’s enough for now, professor.” The apprentice offered, prompting the man to quickly pull back, closing the notebook with an unsatisfying thump. “We have our glowing wand.” The apprentice surmised. “The oeuvre of works which are no doubt the subject of this grand controversy. Now all we need to find is the contract which ties everything together.”
“I’m assuming you haven’t forgotten about our second item of interest?” Sorecar gestured towards the crystal ball.
“Of course not, professor. However, the fact we’ve found that book implies that we must be close to its dependent article.” The apprentice responded with a renewed sense of urgency, as she began using that same ornate magnifying glass in an attempt to further pick apart each and every nook and cranny of Mal’tory’s desk.
Part of me wanted to make some joke about how this was every unpaid intern’s dream, to be rummaging through your boss’ stuff.
But that part of me was completely buried underneath the confusion and dread that came with the revelations from within that little green book.
I… honestly didn’t know what I was expecting, but I felt like I’d been suckerpunched, with the wind being knocked right out of me from the implications of exactly what had been selectively purged from the library.
It was a struggle to process it all, which more or less made me dull out the more eccentric aspects of the apprentice’s investigation; as she unlocked drawer after drawer, pulling out pile after pile of magical nicknacks and more documents than what was possible from that finite amount of space.
Sorecar was clearly of the same opinion as the rest of us right now however, as he continued obsessing over the book, his hands once more trailing over to inspect its cryptic pages. The man seemed transfixed on the second and third sections in particular, though his featureless visor made it difficult to really pin down what his reactions were.
Yet throughout all of this, it was clear the reactions on the homefront were much, much more animated, as Ilunor was just about ready to pass out from the stress, and Thacea seemed about ready to burst at the seams if her featureless facade was of any indication.
“That was the book.” Ilunor finally chimed out, just as the narration through the recording had died down during the more tepid phase of the apprentice’s investigation. “I know it.”
“I thought your memories when it came to the whole Mal’tory book burning situation was lost, Ilunor?” Thalmin countered.
“It was. I mean, it still is. But I remember parts of that room. I vaguely recall the emergence of a book that I was forced to…” The Vunerian trailed off, as if struggling to piece together words.
“... to sign?” Thalmin offered in a surprisingly helpful tone which stood at odds with how he earlier regarded the Vunerian.
“No. No you imbecil-” The Vunerian paused, realizing his misstep as he backtracked from what would’ve otherwise been an expected response. “That wasn’t a book of binding. It’s not comparable to the yearbook, if that was where your assumptions were leading to, Prince Thalmin.” Ilunor clarified, gripping the armrests of his seat tight between his fingers.
It was about this point in time that I expected Thacea to chime in, to elaborate on the nature of the book with her encyclopedic knowledge on seemingly every aspect of the magical world.
But she didn’t.
Instead, her eyes remained practically glued to the screen, as I realized that whatever had been revealed thus far had hit much, much harder than I could’ve imagined.
Ilunor, as if taking note of this silence, elected to fill in for Thacea. “The book… is an adjacent artifact. It is, as the apprentice has noted, an eclectic oeuvre of works, a list if you will, to be bound to and referenced by a contract and a spell of binding. The book itself isn’t the binding agent, moreso the reference material by which the contract is hinged upon.”
“So what’s with the illegible text? Are they ciphers or some magical equivalent of it?” I gestured once more at the bird’s eye view offered by the drone, and the pages of indecipherable text currently beneath Sorecar’s hands.
“Those are anchor runes, earthrelamer.” Ilunor answered with a frustrated sigh. “It is frustrating to see them for what they are not. Frankly, it’s as if your sight-seers and memory-shards were designed to mimic the world as it is seen through the eyes of a particularly weak-fielded commoner.” The Vunerian went off, venting his frustrations through a rant before finally calming down. “But I digress. Those runes are referred to as anchors for a reason. For tethered to them are akin to pages of text to be openly read and deciphered within the manastreams. Granted, this form of writing is not common; moreso used for the purposes of contracts and other such magical binds.”
“And on the topic of contracts. I’m assuming that the contract… your contract, is what the Apprentice is currently rummaging for?” I gestured towards the screen once more, at the apprentice who was now buried ankle-deep in piles upon piles of books, documents, and an assortment of scrolls that criss-crossed across the room’s mahogany and carpeted floors.
“Unless she’s a complete nitwit, then I’d imagine so, yes.” Ilunor responded with his signature cattiness. “In any case, the fact she’s even trying proves that she’s barely above a fool anyways.” The Vunerian shrugged. “And before you ask, earthrealmer, let me preempt your question. The contract, at least on the professor’s end, has more than likely suffered the same fate as my own. Namely, its existence is more than certain to be dubious at best. What the apprentice will surely find will be nothing more than ash at the bottom of that bottomless drawer. Which… given its sheer size and scale, and the potential inhabitants within its limitless confines, will more than likely result in even ash being difficult if not impossible to find.”
There was… more than one point I wanted to raise with Ilunor’s statements. However, before I could address any of them, the elf in question finally spoke up once more; now surrounded by an entire archive’s worth of documents and nicknacks.
“Nothing.” Larial spoke with a sullen breath, taking a moment to steady herself as she made a point of not sitting on Mal’tory’s chair. “At least nothing that’s relevant to our case.” She continued, resting her palms flat against the green suede of the desk.
“Were you really expecting anything different, Apprentice?” Sorecar countered, having since moved from pondering the pages of the book to now pondering the depths of the crystal ball.
“I’d assumed the damage to the man hadn’t been so severe.” Larial admitted, alluding to something else that drew all of our collective attention. “When I first saw him in the healing ward… he looked… intact. You couldn’t even tell there was anything wrong with him.”
“And yet they called you of all people, to aid in the ritual.” The armorer surmised, with a tone of voice that now more resembled that of a fully fledged Academy Professor. His happy go lucky persona had subsided completely, at least for now, as he addressed Larial in a manner more akin to what I’d expected of the Dean. “You have been around the Academy for long enough to understand that calling upon the aid of apprentices is unprecedented. Which means that despite how things may seem on the surface, that lurking beneath the seemingly calm waters, is a hydrostorm of epic proportions.”
“This entire situation is unprecedented, professor.” Larial countered meekly. “But you are correct. It… must have been desperate if they required the aid of apprentices. I just… cannot fathom the fact that the professors must have…” The apprentice trailed off, her face scrunching up and breaking eye contact with the armorer as if too skittish to broach the next point.
Sorecar didn’t reply, nor did he complete her sentence for her, simply allowing her to recuperate and reorganize her thoughts herself.
“... brought the man back from the brink.” She managed out, offering what was in effect a euphemism that didn’t seem to sit right with the armorer, if his immediate head cock was of any indication.
“That is the only way you can explain the complete loss of a contract.” Sorecar reasoned. “You were hoping to find it, despite knowing well that it, amongst the rest of his contracts, have more than likely gone up in flames.” It was around that point that he walked around behind the desk, and reached down into the drawer the apprentice had been searching in. His arm sank impossibly deep, deeper than what should have been physically possible inside of that small and limited space. After a few moments, the man finally brought his hand back up, holding within it what appeared to be fine specks of ash that he allowed to filter back down into the dark depths of the seemingly bottomless drawer. “And there you have it — ash. Most of it has no doubt already been consumed by the bottom-feeders. However, what remains is enough to account for what is perhaps more contracts than most would form in their lives.”
The man stood back up soon after, before once more taking his place at the front of the desk.
“Well, I believe that answers our prior speculations on Auris Ping’s potential relations, contractual or otherwise, with Professor Mal’tory.” Thalmin growled out, punctuating the moment of silence within the footage; which soon continued with a resonant sigh from the apprentice.
“I guess, in a way, I was trying to find the contract not so much because of my assigned task, but because I wanted to perhaps prove to myself that the situation wasn’t as dire as my intuition leads me to believe. The loss of all these contracts can only mean one thing.” Larial paused, once more trying to find the strength inside of her to face whatever facts were self-evident in this case. “The man was lost.” She finally managed out through a shaky breath. “His soul must have departed from his mortal coil. And yet…”
“... and yet he remains.” Sorecar surmised.
“They must have re-tethered it before I arrived that night.” The apprentice shot back. “But I felt nothing different when they asked me to aid in the mana-channeling processes. This whole situation is just…” She sighed, prompting Sorecar to cock his head.
“Unprecedented?”
“Yes.” The apprentice once more admitted, sinking her face into her hands and taking a moment to process it all, more or less falling into the same camp all of us were currently in. “Moreover, it brings up a very disturbing question.”
“Which is?”
“If his soul was truly untethered, even for a split second… how exactly were they able to retether it? Or more specifically, through what means are they using to permanently retether his soul to his mortal coil?”
This question seemed to cause some level of concern from Sorecar, as his answer soon demonstrated. “There are… ways of doing so that aren’t exclusive to being spellbound to armor.” The man offered under a dour breath. “Especially if the body is… fresh, in a manner of speaking. Though it requires the use of-” He stopped, halting himself from going down what was clearly a darkening path. “I apologize for prompting this rather… dark and dreary subject matter, Apprentice.” Sorecar offered, as that empathetic, kinder side of him returned without much prompting.
“It’s quite alright. It… it needed to be said, if we are to complete this investigation with any degree of professionalism.” The apprentice concluded with a small smile. “Whatever the case may be, it is clear that we are unable to procure the contract through which the perpetrator of the library’s burning was bound. We have, however, undeniable proof of Professor Mal’tory’s involvement with the scandal.” She pointed at the green notebook. “And of course, a potential interloper who may or may not have been a part of this conspiracy; thereby expanding this from a mere Academy matter, to one which could implicate others beyond its walls.” She pointed at the crystal ball. “Have you discovered anything from your observations thus far, Professor?” The apprentice inquired, prompting the man to nod, as he knelt down to eye-level, pondering the orb from desk-height.
“The inherent limitations of the Echovale make it so that it’s near impossible to transcribe anything following the cessation of a communique.” Sorecar began. “Though of course, you knew this, and hoped that because I am perhaps one of the greatest armorers to have ever lived, that I would be able to aid in this impossible endeavor, hmm?” The armorer’s tone of voice had more or less resumed that flighty, happy-go-lucky one I knew him for.
The apprentice, hearing this, could only smile awkwardly in response. “I wouldn’t have put it that… bluntly, professor. But I do indeed have faith in your ability to make the impossible, well… probable, at the least.”
“Hmph! Well, I couldn’t pin a face or a name, but I was able to pin a definite location if that helps.” The man offered.
“Any stray piece of information will help tremendously, professor.”
“The Crownlands.” He answered without a hint of hesitation, prompting the Apprentice to raise both of her brows up high.
“That’s as far as I am able to draw from the residual echoes within the vale.” He tapped at the ball, generating a series of satisfying clinks in the process.
“So the man wasn’t acting alone. Or rather, perhaps he was consulting someone.” The apprentice pondered. “Then again, that final communique could very well be with Lord Lartia—” The apprentice paused, before placing both palms softly across her throat. “—may his soul rest in peaceful slumber.” Following another moment of silence, the apprentice’s hands soon shifted towards the ball. “In any case, if it isn’t Lord Lartia, then who could it possibly be? Maybe we should…” The apprentice suddenly stopped; as if realizing the dangers of diving any deeper into this growing conspiracy. “No.” She quickly corrected herself. “Whatever the case may be, this is probably now completely out of my purview. I was assigned to collect any evidence I deemed to be relevant to recent happenings, and I believe this should suffice.”
“Whatever you believe is best, apprentice.” Sorecar acquiesced, prompting the apprentice to slowly, but surely, pack the archive’s worth of documents, books, and scrolls all back into the drawer using nothing but telekinetic spells.
This left just the crystal ball, and the little green book, both of which the apprentice promptly pocketed into a small pouch, before placing it somewhere beneath her cloak.
“Though on that note…” Sorecar began, pointing towards the apprentice’s cloak. “If I may ask, how do you plan on divvying up these finite pieces of evidence?”
This caught the apprentice off-guard, as her mouth opened, but no response came through.
“Moreover, are you even obligated to hand in this evidence? Or are you only expected to write a report to all parties involved?” Sorecar continued, pressing the matter further, causing the apprentice to stop mid-stride. “Because if primary evidence isn’t explicitly required, might I offer my services as a master forger?” The man spoke with a hint of mischievousness, the duality of the word perhaps translating equally well despite the language barrier.
“I may need to contact my superiors to ask if a… copy will be satisfactory to their needs. I believe not, but… we shall see. In any case, I am due to submit the evidence along with my report no later than the end of next week. As such, this should give me ample time to organize my findings, which is especially convenient given the roster of duties I am expected to cover over the next few days.” The apprentice took a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose, halting her rambles as she steadied herself with a sigh. “But I digress, I believe I will take you up on that offer, Professor Pliska.”
“It would be my pleasure to welcome you into my domain, apprentice.”
The rest of the footage consisted of small talk between the pair, with nothing in particular standing out as the topics being addressed soon turned from high-stakes espionage, and back into faculty banter.
Yet despite that, none of us broke the silence that now dominated the boring trip back. Not even as the footage came to a complete stop, and there was nothing more left to play.
I leaned back against the armor, eliciting a series of creaks from the couch below me, echoing across the high-ceilinged room and disrupting the tentative peace that came with this ominous silence.
“This explains… a lot.” Thalmin offered, finally breaking the silence with a tentative tone of voice. “It explains your contract, and its abrupt cessation.” He continued, turning towards Ilunor. “It explains Mal’tory, or at least, his current lack of public appearances. And it reveals to us exactly what he was trying to hide from you, Emma.” The lupinor eventually turned towards me. “And I think the sections of the library, selectively pruned, are self-explanatory as well.”
“Section four, and section five, at least.” I replied shortly thereafter. “I have no idea who or what Alaroy Rital has to hide in section three, and don’t even get me started on section two, let alone section one.” It was at that point that I turned towards Thacea, who let out a sharp exhale upon me bringing up section one.
“The removal of all information relevant to… and I quote — Tainted Realities — speaks volumes to the inherent fears of the Nexus. Though I know not what specifically they may fear from your discovery of its deep and now-lost lore.” Thacea offered through a pensive gaze. “There are many rumors, legends that come with the phrase Tainted Reality. Though most are mythical; epics of long lost eras that dwell between the blurry line that exists between history and legend. Perhaps the records within the library were pieces of irrefutable evidence that would’ve shed light on this nebulous subject matter. But even so… that begs the question… why? Why would they hide what is effectively a non-issue when it comes to your discovery of its lore? Taint, and more specifically, the concept of a Tainted Reality, is something that is inconsequential in the contemporary world. Its history, even if it proves to be true, is neither a disruptive political element, nor a practical tool for war, that could be used in countering the Nexus.” The avinor’s explanations were clear, concise, and yet they belied something personal that she clearly wasn’t broaching.
And I wasn’t about to dig either, not when this topic very clearly hit close to home for her.
“This leaves the second subject matter then.” I offered, giving the avinor an off-ramp towards a potentially more palatable topic.
“The Unspoken War and the Treacherous Alliance?”
“Correct.” I nodded.
“That… I have no knowledge of.” The avinor admitted, prompting me to turn to both the lupinor and the Vunerian for answers.
“Don’t look at me, earthrealmer, I’m the one who lost all memories on the subject, remember?” Ilunor countered.
“I’m afraid I’m as in the dark as you are on this one, Emma.” Thalmin replied with a loud huff, leaving me with perhaps more questions than answers at this point.
“Right then.” I nodded. “Well, regardless, as disquieting, confusing, and disturbing as these revelations have been, they are exactly that — revelations.” I took a moment to stand up, resting both hands on my hips, as if adopting Ilunor’s more theatrical approach to things. “We started today off with no intel on Mal’tory, with no idea how we were going to complete The Library’s Seekership questline, and no knowledge on exactly where we stood in this game. We’re ending today off with a firm grasp on exactly what we need to do, what exactly was scorched in the library, and a tentative understanding on Mal’tory’s fate. I’d say that’s an incredible step forward, even if the answers we now have are leading to even more questions.”
“Reality is often filled with disturbing truths, but only when we acknowledge them, can we act to change them.” Thacea offered.
“Here here!” Thalmin reaffirmed through a firm stomp, standing up tall and ready.
“While certain revelations come as disappointments… namely the survival of Professor Mal’tory… it is indeed somewhat satisfying to hear that the man is at the very least suffering for his actions.” The little thing spoke maliciously, as he too stood up. This prompted a look of worry to form amidst all three of us, but instead of reacting accordingly, he instead displayed an expression of confusion. “What? The man was a monster! He actively antagonized not only me, but this entire group! Surely you also feel at least some sense of satisfaction at the consequences of his actions catching up to him!”
“The delight in an enemy’s defeat, best comes from the resistance of the blade against his body. Not from the suffering incurred from happenstance.” Thalmin countered, whilst Thacea and I refused to entertain that line of thought, as I quickly placed a palm across my forehead, bonking it once again in the process.
“Right, well, here’s the game plan. We now have a clear target to complete our first objective — the notebook. We grab that, hand it in to the library, and presto, we accomplish the Seekership questline. Now comes the difficult part… how exactly do we do that?” I turned to the group, as offers and suggestions finally came flying in.
“Take advantage of your life debt?” Ilunor offered.
“I wouldn’t take advantage of that card just yet, Ilunor. Not if we have other options.” Thacea countered.
“What if we steal it?” Thalmin proposed.
“Thievery isn’t a diplomatic approach, Thalmin.” Thacea shot back with a glare.
“Well, Emma here was able to grapple her way, through manaless means, across the outside of the castle towards the apprentice whilst she was in the medical wing. I’m sure we can pull something else off in a similar capacity!” The lupinor countered.
“No, Thalmin. As much as I would like to try, I believe it might be best if we try a more diplomatic approach.” I offered, prompting the three to cock their heads.
“We could just ask, right?”
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(Author’s Note: And there we have it! The first step towards the completion of the Library's questline! We've found exactly what we were looking for, the list of books that were ordered to be put to the dragon flame by Mal'tory. With that being said however, a new series of questions arises... exactly why were these books targeted in particular? Moreover, what exactly was lost as a result? These questions and more will continue to linger in the back the gangs' minds as we push forward! Especially as we now find ourselves in the midst of another conundrum, exactly how are we going to get the book to the library! Regardless, this is still a massive step forward, and one that will surely bring Emma and Ilunor closer towards addressing the first phase of their intertwined fates with the library! I hope you guys enjoy! :D The next Two Chapters are already up on Patreon if you guys are interested in getting early access to future chapters!)
[If you guys want to help support me and these stories, here's my ko-fi ! And my Patreon for early chapter releases (Chapter 84 and Chapter 85 of this story is already out on there!)]

First / Previous
Jori stood at the edge of the alleyway, pressed up against the wall of The Wandering Fowl as she peered into the narrow street’s depths. Humming echoed from within; a soft, gentle tune that originated from the girl that stood on the snow covered path.
Her sister.
Aria’s attention was not focused towards the end of the street, but rather on the large furred beast in front of her. The auroc groaned gently as the girl moved her brush, patting the bovine as she was lost within the rhythm of her own tune. She reached up and scratched the beast behind its horn, provoking a satisfied bellow from the large animal as it nuzzled up against her. Aria’s giggle broke her melody, ringing out with the same innocent tone that a child’s laugh could only produce.
Just like any other girl.
Pain panged in Jori’s heart, a dull ache that still possessed enough bite to make her clutch at her chest. She looked towards the ground, eyes focusing on the sack that sat at her feet. Its cloth had been pushed to its limit, burgeoning from what had been stuffed within. Jori was content to lose herself for a moment, to forget about the growing hollowness in her stomach, but she was brought out of her trance with a tap on her arm.
“Jori?” Jon asked, her brother’s tone a mix of worry and apprehension.
“I… I’m…” she swallowed, “we could just leave it here. She doesn’t need us bothering her after all she’s been through.”
She started to move away from the alley, but her brother caught her shoulders.
“We’ve come this far Jori, and she leaves today,” he said, his tone heavy, “we can’t back away now.”
She frowned at him, “Brave words for the one making me go first.”
Jon scratched his head, “You’re the oldest, you gotta take charge in these things.”
Jori opened her mouth to respond, but froze as she saw the tremble in her brother’s fingers.
She sighed, “Ok, I’ll do it,” steeling herself, Jori slapped her cheeks, straightened her back, and spun around.
Only to jump at who she saw.
Though he was without armor or helmet, Helbram was easily recognizable in a small town like Redhaven. He was tall, taller than most in the village, but not so much that it would make him a giant, and there were farmers that possessed broader frames than him. However, none carried the same presence as the adventurer. There was an air to the man that threaded the line between gentle and imposing, as if he could switch between the two at the drop of a hat if needed.
As he loomed over the siblings, he trended towards the latter.
He may have been brought into the village in an unconscious state, but any sign of his incapacitation had vanished over the fortnight that it took for him and his party to recover, letting the full weight of his gaze settle over Jori as he looked the two over with unblinking eyes. His vision eventually settled on the bag next to Jori’s feet, and, after a moment of study, a smile broke from his emotionless guise.
He leaned against the wall and tilted his head towards the alley, “Go to her, we will give you some peace.”
Jori tilted her head, eventually realizing that the “we” Helbram mentioned included Leaf, who stood behind him closer to the tavern’s door. The half elven man looked at them with a frown, one that did not reach his eyes, and turned his gaze back to the street, saying nothing.
Jon prodded her in the back, which was enough to get her moving. She picked up the bag and walked past Helbram, marching into the alleyway with enough force behind her steps to echo through the narrowed path.
Echoes that made Aria turn towards her.
As the sisters’ eyes met, both froze. Jon stumbled into Jori’s back, but upon seeing Aria looking at them stopped in his tracks as well. Their sister’s eyebrows were raised in surprise, and the girl leaned against the auroc at her side for support. Her hands clutched at her brush, and the small shake to her fingers revealed the trepidation that the girl felt at the sight of her siblings. It was a sight that made Jori’s heart fall.
But she pressed on.
She walked closer, taking cautious steps towards her sister as she held the bag in front of her. Aria did not react to her approach, but Jori settled at stopping a stone’s throw away. She knelt down and opened the bag.
Revealing the bundles of clothing within.
“We didn’t know how much you needed…” Jori started, “and we didn’t know what your sizes were, so we gathered all we could.”
“We made sure there weren’t any holes in ‘em either,” Jon added in haste, “they may have been ours but they should last you a long while,” like Jori, his eyes were focused towards the ground and not the girl in front of them.
Their sister said nothing.
“We put some blankets in there too,” Jon said, “I know the cold doesn’t bother you but-”
Jori stomped on her brother’s foot. He winced, but upon realizing what he said kept his lips sealed. Cautiously, she looked up towards Aria, staring at the girl’s lips to avoid her eyes.
No reaction.
They stood in silence, the air between them growing more hollow by the moment. It was an emptiness that started to creep back into Jori’s heart, a sense of futility that told her to turn around and walk away. She clenched her hands into fists and pushed that instinct to the side, forcing herself to look her sister in the eye.
“I’m sorry,” she said, the words cracking as her vision blurred, “for abandoning you, for being scared of you. For being an awful, awful sister,” she blinked furiously to keep her tears from falling, “you deserved so much better, and I know there is nothing I can do to make up for what I have done.”
“What we have done,” Jon said, his voice a trembling mess, “I’m sorry too. Sorry for being such a poor brother, for thinking that what I had done was the only… the right thing to do,” he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath to steady himself, “It’s not our place to say this, but we hope wherever you go you find the happiness you deserve.”
Still, Aria did not respond.
Any bravery that the siblings held vanished at their sister’s silence. Jori’s gaze fell and, when nothing else was said, she spun around to leave, grabbing her brother’s arm.
“I can’t forgive you.”
Jori’s heart shattered to pieces.
The instinct to run swelled within her, to flee from the burden of guilt that crashed against her shoulders. The shake in her brother’s arm told her that Jon felt the same, but neither of them moved.
Whatever was to be said, they deserved.
“The words are there… but as I try to say them, I can only see you as you were before,” Aria said, “The ones who laughed and played outside my door as I could only look on. The ones who ignored me as they continued to be happy, to be loved. I can’t say it, not after all this time.”
Jori could hear the weeping in her sister’s voice, but neither her nor Jon could bring themselves to look back as their own tears streamed down their faces.
“But I can say thank you,” Aria’s footsteps drew closer, “for the clothes… and for trying to save me.”
It was the sibling’s time to be silent.
“We may never see each other again, but I hope the best for the both of you.”
An impulse washed over Jori then, an urge to turn around and embrace her sister, to cry into the girl’s shoulders and let her do the same, to be like siblings should have been.
But it was too late for that.
“We hope the best for you too,” Jori said, unable to face her sister. She went to say more, but the words caught at her throat.
Unable to take anymore, Jori ran, letting the desire to escape take over. She hurried past the Helbram and Leaf into the street, her steps carrying her far enough into Redhaven that they were out of sight. Jon was at her side, and when their sprint could carry them no further they collapsed to the ground, chests heaving as their sobs hindered their ability to catch their breath.
Tears flowed from their eyes, unending as they traced down their cheeks, splashing onto the street as they continued to cry. They ignored the stares of the townsfolk that walked by, too lost in the tide of emotions that carried them this far. When the tears finally slowed, Jori could still feel the sorrow within her chest, the pain that dug into her heart, unable to leave.
But it had faded.
Their sister’s words did not relieve Jori of the burden of guilt, but it had reduced it to a dull ache. One that she could live with.
Must live with.
Jori wiped the tears from her eyes and stood up. She held a hand out to Jon and, after her brother wiped his face, he took it with a firm grip as she helped him up. They met each other’s gaze and shared a nod. They had to continue on, to be the best that they could be, for their sake.
For their sister’s wishes.
___
Aria watched her siblings disappear from the alley’s exit. When they were gone, the grip on her brush relaxed and she let go of the breath that she was holding. She looked towards the bag in front of her and knelt down. Curiosity fueled her hands then, placing the brush down and pulling a piece of clothing from the parcel. It revealed itself to be a shirt as it unfolded, the size only a tad larger than what she needed. It was weaved from a white cloth, and in every way was unremarkable.
Yet the sight of it made her happy.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of oncoming footsteps. Helbram and Leaf approached, and while the usual frown-faced man looked at her with some concern, his companion was more relaxed, yet somehow focused at the same time.
Helbram knelt down in front of her, “Are you alright?”
Aria nodded, “I don’t know if it was the right thing to say.”
He put his hand on her head, “Yours is a situation that is a bit more complicated than right or wrong,” he admitted, “and in such times it is better to instead ask this: did you do all that you needed to do?”
She looked down, thinking for a moment, but moved her gaze up to match his, “Yes, I did.”
Helbram smiled at her, “Then that, for now, is all that matters,” he ruffled her hair and stood up, taking the bag into his hand. He held it out for her to put the shirt back into it and held it out to Leaf, who took it as he walked over to Bessie.
“I’ll get her sorted out,” Leaf said, “now go do what you have to do.”
Helbram let out a breath and looked to Aria, “Are you ready?”
She nodded, one that he returned.
He turned towards the tavern’s side door, but waited for Aria to walk ahead of him before he followed. As they walked through The Wandering Fowl’s kitchen, she caught sight of both Elly and Jahora packing various foodstuffs. The taller woman bit into an apple absentmindedly as she peered into the tavern’s icebox. As she noticed them walk by, her ears perked up, and she met Helbram’s eyes with a knowing gaze. Jahora caught sight of them next, saying nothing but flashing Aria an encouraging smile as they walked through the door and into the tavern’s main hall.
She walked up the building’s stairs and down the hallway of rooms that composed its second floor. As her hand reached towards the door that lay at the end of the path, Helbram placed his hand on the doorknob in her stead.
“Are you certain of this?” he asked, his tone measured, but unable to hide the concern beneath.
The weight of the question gave rise to the doubt that sat beneath her determination. Given what had transpired… it would not be wrong of her to leave the door closed, to leave what lay beyond it behind her.
But her heart said otherwise.
Steeling herself, Aria straightened her back and took in a deep breath, “Yes.”
Helbram patted her shoulder, “Then do what you must.”
He opened the door and followed after her as she walked in, facing the two people at the opposite side of the room.
Cora and Erik.
The two Shade’s were still bound, their hands restricted behind their back with Sealing Cuffs while rope tied their legs together. In all practical ways they could do no harm, but that did not stop the flutter that Aria could feel stirring in her chest. Whilst Erik maintained a neutral expression upon noticing Aria, Cora’s own dejected guise shifted to surprise as her eyes fell upon her. Surprise that gave way to something else, though Aria could not tell what. The girl stepped further into the room, and while Helbram did not loom over her, he shifted his position so that she was never out of his reach.
Aria’s lips trembled as she searched for the words to speak, her breath shaking as they refused to form. She squeezed her hands in frustration, the fluttering in her chest now a rapid pounding as she could not form a sentence no matter how hard she tried. She’d ruminated over it far before this moment, yet the sight of the couple, their silence as they waited for her to speak, pushed all those thoughts from her mind. In its place she could only remember Erik and Cora as they were. That kindly man who fed her, who treated her as something more than a monster to be ignored, to be shunned. The bright woman who sat her in her lap and brushed her hair, giving her the warmth of a mother she never had.
She knew that is not who they were, that it was an act meant to make her like them, to feel indebted to them.
But it felt real, the happiness that it gave her was real, and it was that which stopped the words at her throat. She looked to the floor, unable to look at the two any longer, but took in a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said, “for taking care of me.”
It was a selfish thing to say, something that she could blurt out without damaging the fragile integrity of memories based on falsehood. She’d meant to confront them, but could only find the words to run away.
“Aria.”
She looked up, heart stopping as her eyes met with Cora’s. Gone was the woman’s previous madness, that twisted look in her eyes as she called her a name that was not hers. In its place was the same Cora that she always knew. The one who always wore a smile, who always looked at her with warmth. It was a falsehood, she knew that.
Yet it brought her comfort all the same.
“It is we who should say thank you,” she said, “for giving us a warmth that we’d not felt in so, so long. And it is we who should say sorry, for trying to take that warmth for ourselves.”
“Live your life, Aria.”
The girl’s gaze drifted to Erik, and she could see that man that she’d met in the alley, that man who made her feel like she belonged, and the memories of that moment brought tears to her eyes.
“Walk the path you want to walk, and let none steer you from it,” he said, “it is not our place to say such things, I know, but we should say it nonetheless.”
“May the Matron keep your path clear, your steps steady,” Cora said
Aria bit her lip, and she felt the impulse to walk up and embrace them, but she stopped herself. Even if they were sincere, she could not forget who they truly were, no matter how much her heart wished to. Still, the desire grew, and the tears started to flow down her face. She smiled at the couple and gave a firm nod, then turned and made for the door.
“You take care of her, you hear me?” Cora said to Helbram.
Aria felt his hand on her shoulder as she stopped at the door. He opened it and gently pushed her forward.
“Of that, you should have no doubt.”
___
Ren stood outside The Wandering Fowl, taking in the brisk Winter air as he stood in the street without a coat. The townsfolk looked at him as if he was mad, but that was no different than the look they’d given all of them upon their return. They did give him a wider berth today, but that was due to the wagon that had been moved to the street. A wheeless construct, the vehicle was held aloft by the crystal located in its undercarriage, one that radiated a green light as Aether coursed through it and the rest of the wagon. Various crates and bags were stuffed under its roof, and it was in the process of being loaded even further as Helbram’s party shoved various bags and foodstuffs into its bed. Had he not known that the magitek design meant that their auroc would feel little of the burden, he would have been inclined to feel pity for the beast.
Part of him still did as Elly stuffed a burgeoning sack of books into an already crowded space.
“Do you think you have enough?” he mused towards the group, “one would think you meant to start a village with all you’re taking.”
Helbram, who just walked out of the wagon’s bed, laughed. He walked up to the Cleric while dusting his hands.
“Winter will prove to be a harsh mistress this year,” he said, “and while I have every faith that our hunter is up to the task of keeping us provided, I’d rather not place such a burden upon him.”
“That, and we’d rather not taste bitter herbs for a spell,” Jahora said as she adjusted Aria’s coat, “a month away from such flavors is much too short.”
Leaf’s head poked from behind the wagon, “Oi, if the plants bite back then it's good for ya, don’t blame me for having the wisdom to recognize it.”
“Oh we have the wisdom,” Elly said as she joined Helbram at his side, “we just choose to embrace comfort in its stead.”
“Bunch of soft bellied louts, the lot of ya.”
Aria giggled as Leaf’s grumbles faded into the background. She took Jahora’s hand as the Mage guided her towards Ren. The smaller woman was all smiles when she looked at the girl, but as her eyes cut to the side wariness flashed through her features.
Leon sat on the stairs leading into the tavern. His hands were still bound, and rather than meeting anyone’s eyes he kept his eyes to the ground. Ren frowned as he looked at his companion, partially regretting his decision to push Leon to at least see the party off. He encouraged it anyways; the alternative just didn’t feel right.
He just hoped Leon felt the same.
As Leaf finished adjusting Bessie’s harness, he jogged up and joined with his companions, his caution towards Ren’s companion less concealed than the others as he glared in the Black Cloak’s direction.
“So where are you off to, after all this?” Helbram asked Ren.
“As we originally planned,” the Cleric said, “we make for Blade’s Rest, meeting up with a larger cohort before we travel back to headquarters,” he scratched his head, “Winter will prolong our travels a fair bit, but we’d best be moving as quick as possible now that we’ve fully recovered.”
“Of that, we are of similar minds,” Elly said.
“What of you? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Whitebridge,” Helbram said, “it was where we were heading before all this, and we see no reason not to continue on.”
Ren rubbed his chin, “Whitebridge eh? That is quite the journey…” he looked to Aria. The girl was not cautious around him, he could sense that she was on edge. No doubt due to Leon’s presence. And given his companions actions… she had every right to be.
As he looked upon her, however, he thought towards Erik and Cora, about how they knew that she would be in such a remote village like Redhaven. As he did, he removed the symbol of Velendel from his neck and placed his hand over it. The matching eye on his forehead glowed with a golden light as he made an effort of will, casting a spell over the amulet that left it glowing for a moment before the light faded away. He walked over to Jahora and knelt down in front of the Mage, presenting the amulet to her. She looked at him in confusion, and did not reach for the necklace.
“I am not certain, but I believe someone may possess the means to find Aria from afar. That is the only way I can think of to explain why Erik and Cora decided to settle here of all places.”
“A Scryer, perhaps?” Elly inquired, “Though typically their reach is fairly limited.”
“For the average one, yes,” Ren admitted, “but were the Scryer a Shade… then it may very well be possible,” he looked back at Jahora, “concealment magics are not my speciality, but with enough of Velendel’s grace I do believe that wearing this will keep Aria from their watchful gaze, though the enchantment will need refreshing often. And I do recognize it is suspicious of me to provide this under such pretenses, but I ask that you trust me in this.”
Jahora looked into his eyes and, after a moment, took the amulet from him. She directed her attention to Aria, who had her eyes narrowed in clear effort to keep up with the conversation.
“Do you want to wear this?” she asked the girl, holding the necklace out to her.
Aria reached out and touched the amulet, brow furrowed as she ran her fingers along its various ridges, “It feels… warm.”
The girl nodded and let Jahora put it on her. When the Mage did, Aria looked at it again.
“It’s a bit ugly though,” she said before slipping it under her coat.
Ren snorted, “Of that, we are in agreement.”
“Are you certain of this?” Helbram asked, “I have little knowledge in the ways of divine magic, but a Cleric without their Symbol strikes me as something of a hindrance.”
“We’d hardly be that forminable if a bit of jewelry was our lifeline,” Ren said as he stood up, “Please, pay it no mind. Besides, this is the perfect opportunity to get a new one, perhaps one not so garish,” he winked at Aria, and she smiled at him.
“Well, thank you, again,” Helbram said as he held out his hand, “when we next meet, the round is on me.”
Ren smiled and took the man’s hand, “Multiple rounds, perhaps? I’ve a feeling my superiors will be placing me in a drinking mood soon enough.”
Helbram chuckled, “That can be arranged.”
As they let go of one another Ren clapped his hands, “I’ve delayed you long enough, you’d best be off before Spring sets in.”
The party smiled at him and made their way to the wagon.
All except Helbram.
The man marched towards Leon, who’s posture remained unchanging at his approach. Even if the Black Cloak didn’t look at him, Helbram held his hand out.
“Farewell Leon,” he said, “I hope if we cross swords again it will be as we did the first time, not the last.”
Leon didn’t look up.
Helbram sighed, but rather than drop his hand, he gave Leon a quick pat on the shoulder and went to join his party. Before long their wagon disappeared from Ren’s sight, and his companion still did not move.
The Cleric took a seat next to Leon, “It is going to be quite the burden if I have to transport three bound people,” he said.
The Black Cloak remained silent.
Frowning, Ren made to move back into the tavern, but stopped as Leon finally spoke.
“She seemed so… normal.”
“Aria? Yes, the seal is broken but she appears to be in control of herself,” Ren mused, “an interesting development for one as young as her, but it is not unheard of to gain control of one’s Shade.”
“It was out of control Ren, a power that I had not seen since… since…” he fell silent.
“And yet, there she was, hale and hearty as any child should be.”
“I know… I know,” there was a growing frustration in Leon’s voice, “And it has made me think. Had I called out enough, urged him enough… would he still be here today?”
Ren heart ached for his friend, “We can’t know that.”
“And yet, now we have an idea,” Leon said, “proof that such a thing is possible,” tears dropped from Leon’s face as he looked up, “I was so certain he was lost Ren, and the look he gave me told me he thought so as well, but there she was, in the same position, the same abyss of hopelessness, and she came back.”
There was nothing Ren could say to that.
“How many? How many have I killed thinking that they were too far gone? Thinking that I was putting an end… stopping tragedy before it could happen?” He buried his head in his hands, “I’m sorry Astraeus, I’m so sorry…”
Ren walked in front of his companion and pulled him up, “Look at me Leon.”
When he refused to do so, the Cleric forced his gaze up. The Black Cloak’s eyes were red, and the despair beneath them seemed bottomless.
“I understand your grief,” he said, “And I know that you need time to process all of it, but what you can’t let it do is drag you under. Doing so will not help anyone. It will not honor your brother’s memory.”
Leon closed his eyes.
“Let us make our way back to headquarters, and when we are in more stable conditions, we can work through all of this. We can’t afford to fall apart now, do you understand?”
His companion’s breaths slowed as he controlled himself. When his eyes finally opened, a measure of control had returned. Grief still sat behind them, but for now it did not overwhelm Leon, and that was all Ren could ask for at the moment.
“I understand,” the Black Cloak said.
“Good,” Ren unbound the man’s arms, “and when we get back, know that you will always have my aid. We’ll get through this, of that I have no doubt.”
Leon clasped his arm, “Thank you, truly.”
Ren returned the gesture, “What are friends for?”
___
Helbram yawned as he stretched, leaning back on the wagon’s driver seat.
“Don’t you start with that,” Leaf fussed, “We’ve been on the road for barely an hour.”
“I am afraid I must,” Helbram objected in an overly dramatic tone, “my injuries have left me weakened and unable to handle the wear and tear of the road.”
Leaf pressed his lips thin and rolled his eyes.
Elly snorted from within the wagon, “Perhaps you need a distraction? I could teach you how to use a needle so you may be of some use.”
Helbram looked back at her. The Weaver held the sleeve of a pair of pants in her hands, her hands moving with practiced precision as the needle in her fingers glided in and out of the cloth.
“Nonsense,” Helbram said, “I would only slow you down.”
“Perhaps,” she admitted, “but the company would be appreciated.”
She smiled as they both looked at Aria and Jahora. They both leaned against each other as they slept, a contentment on both their faces that was enough to banish any thoughts of waking them from their nap.
“Another time, perhaps,” Helbram said in a quieter tone.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
He flashed her a smile before turning back in his seat, noting Leaf’s now serious expression.
“Everything alright?”
His companion scratched his head, “Honestly I’m just feeling a bit out of my depth. I don’t know how to raise a child, nor one that happens to be a font of magic,” he sighed, “I’m just trying to process it all.”
Hebram rubbed his chin, “It is quite a lot to take in, I admit, but it is not as if you are doing this alone,” he snorted, “I know Jahora would raise quite the objection were you solely in charge of her care.”
Leaf laughed, “That she would… but still, it’s just… overwhelming.”
“It is, and the how of it all escapes me even now, but I know it is something that we must do.”
“Together,” Elly added.
Helbram nodded, “Together.”
Leaf shook his headband and chuckled, “Well now I just feel foolish. Onwards then?”
Helbram pointed down the road.
“Onwards.”

Hedge Knight Arc Four: The Cursed Child
End.
First / Previous
Author's Note: And there we have it, the end of another arc. Still not gonna get over how I said this was going to be a shorter one and it somehow matched the last arc in length. Overall I'm happy with how this one turned out. It's smaller stakes than the last arc, but I think it was a good exploration of the characters, especially Jahora, Leon, and Aria, and that's kind of the reason I try and keep things small scale like this. I'm finding myself enjoying the character dynamics more and more as I write this story, and I feel like its important to explore these interactions fully to really build investment not only with the party, but any events that may happen to them. To that end I toned back the action a bit, aside from the duel, so we can have a full explosive finish. One that admittedly mentally fried me as I tried to make sense of all that as happening, but I think I prefer that over having action for action's sake.
But, the story will continue! Lots of threads were thrown out here and I did try to wrap up some of the immediate ones, but there are also plenty that could possibly be explored down the line. The focus will remain on Helbram and his party of course, but I do like giving the sense that there is something else going on within the world beyond what the party is seeing.
Let me know what you thought of this arc! Did you prefer this over the last arc and is there anything that stands out in this arc that you either liked/disliked. I'm always trying to improve and your feedback goes a really long way to making sure this is the best content I can make for you.
Till next time everyone, have a good one!
If you wish to read ahead and gain access to the audiobook version of this story, consider supporting me on Patreon (https://patreon.com/criticalscribe). If you want to leave a donation, here is my Ko-fi (https://ko-fi.com/criticalscribe).

Alvares Mar Julius (29 April 1836 – 23 September 1923) is a bishop who is a pivotal figure in the history of the Malankara Church.
Born in 1836 in the Portuguese Goa, he was a priest of the Roman Catholic Church. Due to disillusion with RC faith & activities, he began a search for true Christian faith. This spiritual quest ultimately led him to accept Orthodoxy with thousands of his followers and he was ordained a bishop with the episcopal name Alvares Mar Julios in 1889 by Malankara Metropolitan Pulikkottil Joseph Mar Dionysius II (Mar Dionysius V). He was particularly drawn to the Malankara Church because it upheld the fullness of true faith and maintained apostolic succession.
However, this came with challenges. Alvares faced many problems after he accepted Orthodoxy. The local church(RC) authorities and the Portuguese government persecuted him and his followers. Despite these adversities Alvares never wavered in his Orthodox faith and ignored pleas to revert to Catholicism. His commitment and perseverance are a testament to a true Orthodox Christian and serve as a model for all of us to remain empowered even when the odds are stacked against us.
The Bishop stood with Sabha Bhasuran St. Dionysius (Vattaserril Thirumeni) when the troubles were started in Malankara by Patriarch Abdullah.
His mission efforts continue to this day in the form of the Diocese of Brahmavar based in the South of Karnataka & Goa. He was declared a regional saint & is buried in the St. Mary's Orthodox Syrian Church, Ribander in Goa. The dukhrono of the saintly man is celebrated on 23 September. May his intercession be our fortress.

The Characteristics Of Al-Mu’tasim
Foolishness
Al-Mu’tasim was foolish. Historians described him that when he became angry, he did not care whom he killed or what he did.
Dislike Of Knowledge
Al-Mu’tasim disliked knowledge and hated learned people. There was a servant with him who read with him in the book. The servant died and ar-Rasheed said to al-Mu'tasim, ‘O Muhammad, your servant died.’ Al-Mu'tasim said, ‘O yes, my master! He died and rested from the book.’ Ar-Rasheed said, ‘The book will rest from you. (to his men) Leave him! Do not teach him!’ Al-Mu'tasim remained illiterate. When he became the caliph, he did not know reading and writing and his vizier was unlearned. Ahmed bin Aamir described him by saying, ‘An illiterate caliph and an unlearned vizier.’3 He was divested of knowledge, virtue, and any good quality, by which he was supposed to deserve the caliphate in Islam that was the highest and most important position on which justice and equity among people depended. Al-Mu'tasim’s heart was full of spite and malice against Imam al- Jawad (a.s). He burst with rage whenever he heard the virtues and exploits of Imam al-Jawad (a.s) being mentioned. His envy towards him had led him to assassinate him as we shall explain later on.
Bringing Imam Al-Jawad To Baghdad
Al-Mu'tasim had ordered Imam al-Jawad (a.s) to come to Baghdad and he arrived in it in Muharram, 220 AH.9 When Imam al-Jawad (a.s) came to Baghdad, al-Mu'tasim house- arrested him to know all his affairs and activities. He ordered his men to watch him and he prevented him from connecting with his followers and those who believed in his imamate. Mu'tasim ordered Umm al-Fadhl to poison the Imam, and her brother Ja'far ibn Ma'mun, the accursed one, also helped and provoked her. she poisonedn bunch of grapes, and placed it in front of him. When the Imam had eaten from it, she regretted and went on to cry. He-asws said: ‘What makes you cry? By Allah-azwj! May Allah-azwj Strike you with sterility not to be restored, and affliction which cannot be veiled!’ She died in an illness, a hole appeared in the most covered of places of her body parts (private part). She spent her wealth and entirety of what she had owned, upon that illness, to the extent that she became needy to be nourished. And it is reported that the hole was in her private part. The accursed Umm al-Fadhl also contracted leprosy and descended into Hell in disgrace in the desert, and the dogs tore her body apart.
hemlock poison, whose characteristic was that it made the blessed feet of the Imam so heavy that he could no longer walk, and it made the Imam extremely thirsty, such that like his forefather Imam al Husayn a.s he said: 'Al-Atash, al-Atash' (The thirst, the thirst)... The wicked Umm al-Fadhl ordered the maids to beat drums and tambourines and dance so that his voice would not reach anyone's ears. Finally, Imam Jawad, peace be upon him, was martyred in loneliness on the dirt of his room while in exile. For three days, his blessed body remained on the rooftop of the house, and after that, Umm al-Fadhl threw the pure body down from the roof to the ground. The Shias took the blessed corpse and buried it on the 2nd of Dhu al-Hijjah in the presence of Imam al Hadi, peace be upon him.
‘When allegiance was pledged to Al-Mutasim, he went on to check his situation. He wrote to Abdul Malik Al-Zayyat to dispatch to him Al-Taqi-asws and Umm Fazl. Al-Zayyat dispatched Ali Bin Yaqteen to him-asws. He-asws prepared and went out to Baghdad. He honoured him-asws, and revered him-asws, and sent Ashnas bearing the gifts to him-asws and to Umm Al-Fazl Then he sent a drink of citron juice to him-asws under his seal upon the hands of Ashnas. He said, ‘Commander of the faithful has got Ahmad Bin Abu Dawood, and Saeed Bin Al-Khaeyb, and a group from the well-known people to taste it, and he orders you-asws to drink from it with the water of snow, and he has made it just now, and he says, ‘Drink it at night’. He-asws said: ‘It is beneficial (when) cold, and the snow has melted’. And he insisted upon that, so he-asws drank it knowing of their deeds. (The book) ‘Al Manaqib’ of Ibn Shehr Ashub –V4 p 416
وَ لَمَّا بُويِعَ الْمُعْتَصِمُ جَعَلَ يَتَفَقَّدُ أَحْوَالَهُ فَكَتَبَ إِلَى عَبْدِ الْمَلِكِ الزَّيَّاتِ أَنْ يُنْفِذَ إِلَيْهِ التَّقِيَّ وَ أُمَّ الْفَضْلِ فَأَنْفَذَ ابْنُ الزَّيَّاتِ عَلِيَّ بْنَ يَقْطِينٍ إِلَيْهِ فَتَجَهَّزَ وَ خَرَجَ إِلَى بَغْدَادَ فَأَكْرَمَهُ وَ عَظَّمَهُ وَ أَنْفَذَ أُشْنَاسَ بِالتُّحَفِ إِلَيْهِ وَ إِلَى أُمِّ الْفَضْلِ ثُمَّ أَنْفَذَ إِلَيْهِ شَرَابَ حُمَّاضِ الْأُتْرُجِّ تَحْتَ خَتْمِهِ عَلَى يَدَيِ أُشْنَاسٍ وَ قَالَ إِنَّ أَمِيرَ الْمُؤْمِنِينَ ذَاقَهُ قِبَلَ أَحْمَدَ بْنِ أَبِي دَاوُدَ وَ سَعْدِ بْنِ الْخَصِيبِ وَ جَمَاعَةٍ مِنَ الْمَعْرُوفِينَ وَ يَأْمُرُكَ أَنْ تَشْرَبَ مِنْهَا بِمَاءِ الثَّلْجِ وَ صَنَعَ فِي الْحَالِ فَقَالَ اشْرَبْهَا بِاللَّيْلِ قَالَ إِنَّهَا يَنْفَعُ بَارِداً وَ قَدْ ذَابَ الثَّلْجُ وَ أَصَرَّ عَلَى ذَلِكَ فَشَرِبَهَا عَالِماً بِفِعْلِهِم « مناقب آل ابیطالب ج ۴ ص ۴۱۶، بحار الانوار ج ۵۰ ص ۸، منتهی الآمال ص ۱۸۰۵»
(The book) ‘Uyoon Al Mojizaat’ – ‘When Abu Ja’far-asws and his-asws wife, the daughter of Al-Mamoun went out as pilgrims, and Abu Al-Hassan-asws brought out his-asws son Ali-asws, and he-asws was young, he-asws left him-asws behind in Al-Medina, and submitted to him-asws the inheritances, and the weapons, and texted upon him-asws in the witnessing of his-asws trusted ones and his-asws companions, and he-asws left to go to Al-Iraq, and with him-asws was his-asws wife, daughter of Al-Mamoun. And Al-Mamoun had gone out to a city of Rome, and he died at Al-Badeyroun during Rajab of the year two hundred and eighteen, and that was during the sixteenth year from the Imamate of Abu Ja’far-asws. And Al-Mutasim Abu Is’haq Muhammad Bin Haroun was pledge allegiance to during Shaman of the year two hundred and eighteen. Then Al-Mutasim went on to plot in killing Abu Ja’far-asws, and indicated to his-asws wife, the daughter of Al-Mamoun, that she should poison him, because he was aware of her turning away from Abu Ja’far-asws, and the intensity of her jealousy upon him-azwj due to his-asws preferring the mother-as of his-asws son-asws Abu Al-Hassan-asws over her, and because she was not graced with any child from him-asws. She answer him to that and went on to poison in a bunch of grapes, and she placed it in front of him. When he-asws had eaten from it, she regretted and went on to cry. He-asws said: ‘What makes you cry? By Allah-azwj! May Allah-azwj Strike you with sterility not to be restored, and affliction which cannot be veiled!’ She died in an illness, a hole appeared in the most covered of places of her body parts (private part). She spent her wealth and entirety of what she had owned, upon that illness, to the extent that she became needy to be nourished. And it is reported that the hole was in her private part. And he-asws passed away during the year two hundred and twenty from the Hijrah during the day of Tuesday of the fifth (day) vacant from Zil Hijjah, and for him-asws were twenty-four years and some months, because heasws was blessed (to his-asws parents-asws) in the year one hundred and ninety-five
Bihar Al Anwaar – V 50, The book of History – Muhammad Bin Ali-asws, Ch 1 H 26
لَمَّا خَرَجَ أَبُو جَعْفَرٍ عليهالسلام وَ زَوْجَتُهُ ابْنَةُ الْمَأْمُونِ حَاجّاً وَ خَرَجَ أَبُو الْحَسَنِ عَلِيٌّ ابْنُهُ عليهالسلام وَ هُوَ صَغِيرٌ فَخَلَّفَهُ فِي الْمَدِينَةِ وَ سَلَّمَ إِلَيْهِ الْمَوَارِيثَ وَ السِّلَاحَ وَ نَصَّ عَلَيْهِ بِمَشْهَدِ ثِقَاتِهِ وَ أَصْحَابِهِ وَ انْصَرَفَ إِلَى الْعِرَاقِ وَ مَعَهُ زَوْجَتُهُ ابْنَةُ الْمَأْمُونِ وَ كَانَ خَرَجَ الْمَأْمُونُ إِلَى بِلَادِ الرُّومِ فَمَاتَ بالبديرون فِي رَجَبٍ سَنَةَ ثَمَانَ عَشْرَةَ وَ مِائَتَيْنِ وَ ذَلِكَ فِي سِتَّ عَشْرَةَ سَنَةً مِنْ إِمَامَةِ أَبِي جَعْفَرٍعليهالسلام وَ بُويِعَ الْمُعْتَصِمُ أَبُو إِسْحَاقَ مُحَمَّدُ بْنُ هَارُونَ فِي شَعْبَانَ مِنْ سَنَةِ ثَمَانَ عَشْرَةَ وَ مِائَتَيْنِ ثُمَّ إِنَّ الْمُعْتَصِمَ جَعَلَ يَعْمَلُ الْحِيلَةَ فِي قَتْلِ أَبِي جَعْفَرٍعليهالسلام وَ أَشَارَ عَلَى ابْنَةِ الْمَأْمُونِ زَوْجَتِهِ بِأَنْ تَسُمَّهُ لِأَنَّهُ وَقَفَ عَلَى انْحِرَافِهَا عَنْ أَبِي جَعْفَرٍعليهالسلام وَ شِدَّةِ غَيْرَتِهَا عَلَيْهِ لِتَفْضِيلِهِ أُمَّ أَبِي الْحَسَنِ ابْنِهِ عَلَيْهَا وَ لِأَنَّهُ لَمْ يُرْزَقْ مِنْهَا وَلَدٌ فَأَجَابَتْهُ إِلَى ذَلِكَ وَ جَعَلَتْ سَمّاً فِي عِنَبٍ رَازِقِيٍّ وَ وَضَعَتْهُ بَيْنَ يَدَيْهِ فَلَمَّا أَكَلَ مِنْهُ نَدِمَتْ وَ جَعَلَتْ تَبْكِي فَقَالَ مَا بُكَاؤُكِ وَ اللَّهِ لَيَضْرِبَنَّكِ اللَّهُ بِعَقْرٍ لَا يَنْجَبِرُ وَ بَلَاءٍ لَا يَنْسَتِرُ فَمَاتَتْ بِعِلَّةٍ فِي أَغْمَضِ الْمَوَاضِعِ مِنْ جَوَارِحِهَا صَارَتْ نَاصُوراً فَأَنْفَقَتْ مَالَهَا وَ جَمِيعَ مَا مَلَكَتْهُ عَلَى تِلْكَ الْعِلَّةِ حَتَّى احْتَاجَتْ إِلَى الِاسْتِرْفَادِ وَ رُوِيَ أَنَّ النَّاصُورَ كَانَ فِي فَرْجِهَا وَ قُبِضَ عليهالسلام فِي سَنَةِ عِشْرِينَ وَ مِائَتَيْنِ مِنَ الْهِجْرَةِ فِي يَوْمِ الثَّلَاثَاءِ لِخَمْسٍ خَلَوْنَ مِنْ ذِي الْحِجَّةِ وَ لَهُ أَرْبَعٌ وَ عِشْرُونَ سَنَةً وَ شُهُورٌ لِأَنَّ مَوْلِدَهُ كَانَ فِي سَنَةِ خَمْسٍ وَ تِسْعِينَ وَ مِائَةٍ.. «
عيون المعجزات، ص ۱۲۹، اثبات الوصیه ۲۱۹، دلائل الامامیه ص ۳۹۵، بحار الانوار ج ۵۰ ص ۱۶؛ جلاءالعیون ص ۹۶۷، منتهی الآمال ص ۱۸۰۴»
Cause of Imam’s martyrdom
It is mentioned in Tafsir Ayyashi that a man named Zarqan was a close friend of Qadi Ibne Abi Dawud. He narrates: One day when Qadi Ibne Abi Dawud came to me, he was highly distraught. I asked him what the matter was and he told me in a plaintive tone, “Alas! If I had only passed away twenty years ago instead of being humiliated!” When I asked him to explain, he said, “Today, Abu Ja’far Muhammad Ibne Ali humiliated me in the presence of the chief of believers, Mutasim.” “What happened exactly?” I asked. “A thief came to the chief of believers and said: I am a thief. Please issue the Islamic penalty to me and purify from my sin.” Mutasim summoned all the jurists including Abu Ja’far Muhammad Taqi and asked us from where the hand should be chopped. I told him from the wrist. When the Caliph asked me for the proof, I said that the Quran has mentioned cutting off the hand of the thief and the word of ‘yad’ implies the hand from the wrist as mentioned in the verse of Tayammum: “…then wipe your faces and your hands…”Surah Nisa 4:43 And the whole nation has consensus that here the word of ‘yad’ implies the hand from the wrist. So it similarly applies for the thief as well and his hand must be cut from the wrist. For some time there was dispute among the jurists with regard to my verdict and some suggested that his hand should be cut off from the elbow relying on the verse of ablution: “…and your hands as far as the elbows…”Surah Maidah 5:6 After that Caliph Mutasim glanced at Imam Muhammad Taqi (a) and said, “Abu Ja’far, what is your opinion regarding this issue?” “The jurists of the community have mentioned their views; now what is the need of my opinion?” Inspite of his reluctance, the Caliphate insisted. He said, “If you are insisting so much; then listen: all the jurists have erred and issued a verdict that is opposed to the Sunnah. The Islamic legal penalty for the thief is that his four fingers must be cut off from the root leaving his palm intact.” “What is your reasoning for that? Mutasim asked. “It is the statement of Messenger of Allah (s) that during prostration (Sajdah) comprises placing the following seven parts of the body on the floor: forehead, both hands, both knees and toes of both feet. If the hand is amputed from the wrist how that person would perform Sajdah? Whereas Almighty Allah has mentioned in Surah Jinn: “And the places of prostration are Allah’s…”Surah Jinn 72:18 It implies the parts placed in Sajdah. “…therefore call not upon any one with Allah.”Surah Jinn 72:18 That is along with those places of prostration do not include anyone else with Allah. Hence whatever comes into the ownership of Allah cannot be cut off.” Mutasim was highly impressed at this reasoning and he ruled that the fingers of that thief be cut off. I was shattered by this verdict and I wished that I had died before issuing such a judgment and facing such humiliation. Zarqan says: That same Qadi visited Mutasim after two days and said: I am here because of my concern for you and I also know that as a result of that my abode shall in Hell. “What do you mean?” asked Mutasim. Qadi said, “O chief of believers, when you gather the scholars and jurists in your court and inquire about their legal verdicts, at that time not only scholars are present, on the contrary, your family members, ministers and your scribes etc are also present and later on these reports are circulated all over the country. But last time you really did something extraordinary! Ignoring the views of all the scholars and jurists of the Ummah, you adopted the verdict of Abu Ja’far. Whereas you should have taken into consideration the fact that from before also a large number of people from the nation believe in his Imamate and they imagine that you have usurped power that was rightfully Abu Ja’far’s. In spite of that you overlooked the verdicts of all the jurists and applied his opinion. This would weaken the foundations of your rule.” Mutasim’s became terribly infuriated and he said, “You have rendered a good advice; may God give you a good reward.” After that the Caliph ordered his minister to invite Abu Ja’far for dinner and poison the food. So that minister invited the Imam for dinner, but the Imam excused himself. The minister said, “We have only invited you for dinner, so that your presence would bring auspiciousness from God and so and so ministers of the Caliph would also like to meet you.” Finally the Imam attended the dinner and then realized that the food was poisoned. He asked them for the mount in order to return, but the host said, “Why the haste? Please stay some more.” Imam said, “It is better that I leave your place and go home.” After that he was in severe pain for a day and then finally passed away Tafsir Ayyashi, Vol. 1, Pg. 319; Biharul Anwar, Vol. 50, Pg. 5.
: الشيخ محمد بن مسعود العيّاشي في تفسيره:
باسناده عن زرقان صاحب ابن أبي داود و صديقه بشدّة قال: رجع ابن أبي داود ذات يوم من عند المعتصم و هو مغتمّ، فقلت له في ذلك، فقال:
وددت اليوم أنّي قدمت منذ عشرين سنة! قال: قلت له: و لم ذاك؟ قال:
لما كان هذا من الأسود! أبي جعفر محمّد بن عليّ بن موسى- (عليهم السلام)- اليوم بين يدي أمير المؤمنين [المعتصم] .
قال: قلت له: و كيف كان ذلك؟
قال: إنّ سارقا أقرّ على نفسه بالسرقة، و سأل الخليفة تطهيره بإقامة الحدّ عليه، فجمع لذلك الفقهاء في مجلسه، و قد أحضر محمد بن عليّ- (عليهما السلام)-، فسألنا عن القطع في أيّ موضع يجب أن يقطع؟ قال:
فقلت: من الكرسوع، قال: و ما الحجّة في ذلك؟ قال: قلت: لأنّ اليد هي الأصابع و الكفّ إلى الكرسوع، لقول اللّه في التيمّم: فَامْسَحُوا بِوُجُوهِكُمْ وَ أَيْدِيكُمْ [ النساء: 43.]، و اتّفق معي على ذلك قوم.
و قال آخرون: بل يجب القطع من المرفق، قال: و ما الدليل على ذلك؟ قالوا: لأنّ اللّه لمّا قال: وَ أَيْدِيَكُمْ إِلَى الْمَرافِقِ [المائدة: 6] في الغسل دلّ ذلك أنّ حدّ اليد هو المرفق، قال: فالتفت الي محمد بن عليّ- (عليه السلام)- فقال: ما تقول في هذا يا أبا جعفر؟ فقال: قد تكلّم القوم فيه يا أمير المؤمنين [قال: دعني ممّا تكلّموا به، أيّ شيء عندك؟ قال: اعفني عن هذا يا أمير المؤمنين] قال: أقسمت عليك باللّه [لما أخبرت بما عندك فيه، فقال- (عليه السلام)-: أمّا إذا أقسمت عليّ باللّه] إنّي أقول: إنّهم أخطئوا فيه السنّة، فانّ القطع يجب أن يكون من مفصل اصول الأصابع، فيترك الكفّ، قال: و ما الحجّة في ذلك؟
قال: قول رسول اللّه- (صلّى اللّه عليه و آله)-: «السجود على سبعة أعضاء الوجه و اليدين و الركبتين و الرجلين»، فإذا قطعت يده من الكرسوع أو المرفق لم يبق له يد يسجد عليها، و قد قال اللّه تعالى: وَ أَنَّ الْمَساجِدَ لِلَّهِ- يعني به هذه الأعضاء السبعة التي يسجد عليها- فَلا تَدْعُوا مَعَ اللَّهِ أَحَداً الجنّ: 18. و ما كان للّه لم يقطع، قال: فأعجب المعتصم ذلك، و أمر بقطع يد السارق من مفصل الأصابع دون الكفّ.
قال ابن أبي داود: قامت قيامتي و تمنّيت أنّي لم أك [حيّا] قال زرقان: إنّ ابن أبي داود قال: صرت إلى المعتصم بعد ثالثة ، فقلت: إنّ نصيحة أمير المؤمنين عليّ واجبة، و أنا اكلّمه بما أعلم أنّي أدخل به النار، قال: و ما هو؟ قلت: إذا جمع أمير المؤمنين في مجلسه فقهاء رعيّته و علمائهم لأمر واقع من امور الدين، فسألهم عن الحكم فيه فأخبروه بما عندهم من الحكم في ذلك، و قد حضر مجلسه [أهل بيته] و قوّاده و وزرائه و كتّابه، و قد تسامع الناس بذلك من وراء بابه، ثمّ يترك أقاويلهم كلّهم لقول رجل يقول شطر هذه الامّة بإمامته، و يزعمون أنّه أولى منه بمقامه، ثمّ يحكم بحكمه دون حكم الفقهاء؟!
قال: فتغيّر لونه و انتبه لما نبّهته له و قال: جزاك اللّه عن نصيحتك خيرا، قال: فأمر اليوم الرابع الامراء من كتّابه و وزرائه [4] بأن يدعوه إلى منزله، فدعاه فأبى أن يجيبه و قال: قد علمت أنّي لا أحضر مجالسكم.
فقال: إنّي إنّما أدعوك إلى الطعام، و احبّ أن تطأ ببابي و تدخل منزلي فأتبرّك بذلك، و قد أحبّ فلان بن فلان من وزراء الخليفة [لقائك] ، فصار إليه.
فلمّا طعم منها أحسّ السمّ، فدعا بدابّته فسأله ربّ المنزل أن يقيم، قال: خروجي من دارك خير لك، فلم يزل يومه ذلك و ليله في حلقه [في المصدر: في خلفه، و قال محقّق البحار: إنّ الصحيح في خلفة و هو بالكسر: الهيضة، و هي انطلاق البطن و القيء.] حتّى قبض- (عليه السلام)- تفسير العيّاشي: 1: 319 ح 109 و عنه البحار: 50/ 5 ح 7 و ج 79/ 190 ح 33 و ج 85/ 128 و الوسائل: 18/ 490 ح 5 و حلية الأبرار: 4/ 580 ح 2.
ـ أَحْمَدُ بْنُ إِدْرِيسَ عَنْ مُحَمَّدِ بْنِ حَسَّانَ عَنْ أَبِي هَاشِمٍ الْجَعْفَرِيِّ قَالَ صَلَّيْتُ مَعَ ابي جعفر (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) فِي مَسْجِدِ الْمُسَيَّبِ وَصَلَّى بِنَا فِي مَوْضِعِ الْقِبْلَةِ سَوَاءً وَذُكِرَ أَنَّ السِّدْرَةَ الَّتِي فِي الْمَسْجِدِ كَانَتْ يَابِسَةً لَيْسَ عَلَيْهَا وَرَقٌ فَدَعَا بِمَاءٍ وَتَهَيَّأَ تَحْتَ السِّدْرَةِ فَعَاشَتِ السِّدْرَةُ وَأَوْرَقَتْ وَحَمَلَتْ مِنْ عَامِهَا.

1. Ahmad ibn Idris has narrated from from Muhammad ibn Hassa’n from abu Hashim Ali-Ja‘fari who has said the following. “Once I prayed with abu Ja‘far (a.s.) in the Mosque of Ali-Musayyib. He lead the prayer with us and as to the direction of Makka he stood up facing straight. He also has said that a berry tree that was in the Mosque had dried up and had no leaves. The Imam (a.s.) asked for water and prepared himself under that tree for prayer. The berry tree came alive with leaves and fruits in that year.”

Al-Kāfi - Volume 1, The Birth of Abu Ja‘far, Muhammad ibn Ali, the Second (a.s.), Hadith 10
ـ الْحُسَيْنُ بْنُ مُحَمَّدٍ عَنْ مُعَلَّى بْنِ مُحَمَّدٍ عَنْ أَحْمَدَ بْنِ مُحَمَّدِ بْنِ عَبْدِ الله عَنْ مُحَمَّدِ بْنِ سِنَانٍ قَالَ دَخَلْتُ عَلَى أَبِي الْحَسَنِ (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) فَقَالَ يَا مُحَمَّدُ حَدَثَ بِآلِ فَرَجٍ حَدَثٌ فَقُلْتُ مَاتَ عُمَرُ فَقَالَ الْحَمْدُ لله حَتَّى أَحْصَيْتُ لَهُ أَرْبَعاً وَعِشْرِينَ مَرَّةً فَقُلْتُ يَا سَيِّدِي لَوْ عَلِمْتُ أَنَّ هَذَا يَسُرُّكَ لَجِئْتُ حَافِياً أَعْدُو إِلَيْكَ قَالَ يَا مُحَمَّدُ أَ وَلا تَدْرِي مَا قَالَ لَعَنَهُ الله لِمُحَمَّدِ بْنِ عَلِيٍّ أَبِي قَالَ قُلْتُ لا قَالَ خَاطَبَهُ فِي شَيْءٍ فَقَالَ أَظُنُّكَ سَكْرَانَ فَقَالَ أَبِي اللهمَّ إِنْ كُنْتَ تَعْلَمُ أَنِّي أَمْسَيْتُ لَكَ صَائِماً فَأَذِقْهُ طَعْمَ الْحَرْبِ وَذُلَّ الاسْرِ فَوَ الله إِنْ ذَهَبَتِ الايَّامُ حَتَّى حُرِبَ مَالُهُ وَمَا كَانَ لَهُ ثُمَّ أُخِذَ أَسِيراً وَهُوَ ذَا قَدْ مَاتَ لا رَحِمَهُ الله وَقَدْ أَدَالَ الله عَزَّ وَجَلَّ مِنْهُ وَمَا زَالَ يُدِيلُ أَوْلِيَاءَهُ مِنْ أَعْدَائِهِ.
. Al-Husayn ibn Muhammad has narrated from Mu‘alla ibn Muhammad from Ahmad ibn Muhammad ibn ‘Abdallah from Muhammad ibn Sinan who has said the following. “Once I went to see abu al-Hassan (a.s.). He said, “O Muhammad, has something happened to the family of al-Faraj (the governor of al-Madina )?” I said, “Yes, ‘Umar (a member of al-Faraj family) has died.” The Imam (a.s.) said, “All thanks and praise belongs to Allah.” He said it twenty four times. I then said, “My master, had known it would make you this happy I would have come to running and bare foot with the news (to congratulate you).” The Imam (a.s.) said, “Do you not know what he –may Allah condemn him- once had said to Muhammad ibn Ali, my father?” The narrator has said that I said, “No, I do not know it.” The Imam (a.s.) said, “He spoke to my father about an issue and then said to him, “I think you are drunk.” My father then had said, “O Lord, if you know that I have been fasting this day, then make him test the taste of al-A ‘war, and the humiliation of captivity.” By Allah, in just a few days his belongings were looted and he was captured and know he is dead-may Allah deprive him of His mercy. Allah, the Most Majestic, the Most gracious, has exacted revenge from him and He continues to exact revenge for His friends from His enemies.
Al-Kāfi - Volume 1, The Birth of Abu Ja‘far, Muhammad ibn Ali, the Second (a.s.), Hadith 9
ـ عَلِيُّ بْنُ إِبْرَاهِيمَ عَنْ أَبِيهِ قَالَ اسْتَأْذَنَ عَلَى ابي جعفر (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) قَوْمٌ مِنْ أَهْلِ النَّوَاحِي مِنَ الشِّيعَةِ فَأَذِنَ لَهُمْ فَدَخَلُوا فَسَأَلُوهُ فِي مَجْلِسٍ وَاحِدٍ عَنْ ثَلاثِينَ أَلْفَ مَسْأَلَةٍ فَأَجَابَ (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) وَلَهُ عَشْرُ سِنِينَ.

1. Ali ibn Ibrahim has narrated from his father who has said the following. “Once a group of Shi‘a from the suburbs asked permission to meet abu Ja‘far (a.s.). He granted them permission and they came in his presence. In one meeting they asked him thirty thousand questions. He answered them all and at that time he was ten years old.”

Al-Kāfi - Volume 1, The Birth of Abu Ja‘far, Muhammad ibn Ali, the Second (a.s.), Hadith 7
ـ عَلِيُّ بْنُ مُحَمَّدٍ عَنْ سَهْلِ بْنِ زِيَادٍ عَنْ دَاوُدَ بْنِ الْقَاسِمِ الْجَعْفَرِيِّ قَالَ دَخَلْتُ عَلَى ابي جعفر (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) وَمَعِي ثَلاثُ رِقَاعٍ غَيْرُ مُعَنْوَنَةٍ وَاشْتَبَهَتْ عَلَيَّ فَاغْتَمَمْتُ فَتَنَاوَلَ إِحْدَاهُمَا وَقَالَ هَذِهِ رُقْعَةُ زِيَادِ بْنِ شَبِيبٍ ثُمَّ تَنَاوَلَ الثَّانِيَةَ فَقَالَ هَذِهِ رُقْعَةُ فُلانٍ فَبُهِتُّ أَنَا فَنَظَرَ إِلَيَّ فَتَبَسَّمَ قَالَ وَأَعْطَانِي ثَلاثَمِائَةِ دِينَارٍ وَأَمَرَنِي أَنْ أَحْمِلَهَا إِلَى بَعْضِ بَنِي عَمِّهِ وَقَالَ أَمَا إِنَّهُ سَيَقُولُ لَكَ دُلَّنِي عَلَى حَرِيفٍ يَشْتَرِي لِي بِهَا مَتَاعاً فَدُلَّهُ عَلَيْهِ قَالَ فَأَتَيْتُهُ بِالدَّنَانِيرِ فَقَالَ لِي يَا أَبَا هَاشِمٍ دُلَّنِي عَلَى حَرِيفٍ يَشْتَرِي لِي بِهَا مَتَاعاً فَقُلْتُ نَعَمْ قَالَ وَكَلَّمَنِي جَمَّالٌ أَنْ أُكَلِّمَهُ لَهُ يُدْخِلُهُ فِي بَعْضِ أُمُورِهِ فَدَخَلْتُ عَلَيْهِ لاكَلِّمَهُ لَهُ فَوَجَدْتُهُ يَأْكُلُ وَمَعَهُ جَمَاعَةٌ وَلَمْ يُمْكِنِّي كَلامَهُ فَقَالَ يَا أَبَا هَاشِمٍ كُلْ وَوَضَعَ بَيْنَ يَدَيَّ ثُمَّ قَالَ ابْتِدَاءً مِنْهُ مِنْ غَيْرِ مَسْأَلَةٍ يَا غُلامُ انْظُرْ إِلَى الْجَمَّالِ الَّذِي أَتَانَا بِهِ أَبُو هَاشِمٍ فَضُمَّهُ إِلَيْكَ قَالَ وَدَخَلْتُ مَعَهُ ذَاتَ يَوْمٍ بُسْتَاناً فَقُلْتُ لَهُ جُعِلْتُ فِدَاكَ إِنِّي لَمُولَعٌ بِأَكْلِ الطِّينِ فَادْعُ الله لِي فَسَكَتَ ثُمَّ قَالَ لِي بَعْدَ ثَلاثَةِ أَيَّامٍ ابْتِدَاءً مِنْهُ يَا أَبَا هَاشِمٍ قَدْ أَذْهَبَ الله عَنْكَ أَكْلَ الطِّينِ قَالَ أَبُو هَاشِمٍ فَمَا شَيْءٌ أَبْغَضَ إِلَيَّ مِنْهُ الْيَوْمَ.

1. Ali ibn Muhammad has narrated from Sahl ibn zd from Dawud ibn al-Qasim al-Ja‘fari who has said the following “Once I went to see abu Ja‘far (a.s.) and I had a few questions on three pieces of materials with proper markings and they were mixed as such that I could not distinguish. I felt sad. He picked one and said, “This is the letter of Ziyad ibn Shabib.” Then he picked up the other one and said, “.This is the letter of so and so.” I became awe struck. He looked at me and smiled.” The narrator has said that the Imam (a.s.) then gave me three hundred Dinars and asked me to deliver them to the certain persons of the sons of his uncle and said, “He will ask you to show him a professional person who would help him to buy goods, help show him one.” The narrator has said that I then went to him and gave him the Dinars and asked me, “O abu Hashim, can you show me a professional person who would help me to buy goods.” I said, “Yes, I can do so.” The narrator has said that a camel man asked me to speak on his behalf to abu Ja‘far (a.s.) to take part in certain matters of his affairs. I went to see him (abu Ja‘far (a.s.) to speak to him but he was having meal with a group of people and I did not get a chance to speak to him. He (abu Ja‘far (a.s.) said, “O abu Hashim, eat. He placed food before me. Then he said, initiating and without any question from me, “O slave, take good care of the camel-man that abu Hashim has brought for us. Keep him with you.” The narrator has said that one day I entered a garden along with him and said, “May Allah take my soul in service for your cause, I am addicted to eating fig. Pray to Allah for me.” He was quite and then after three day on his own initiation he said, “O abu Hashim, “Allah has removed your addiction.” Ever since it is the thing that I hate most.”

Al-Kāfi - Volume 1, The Birth of Abu Ja‘far, Muhammad ibn Ali, the Second (a.s.), Hadith : 4
ـ عَلِيُّ بْنُ مُحَمَّدٍ عَنْ بَعْضِ أَصْحَابِنَا عَنْ مُحَمَّدِ بْنِ الرَّيَّانِ قَالَ احْتَالَ الْمَأْمُونُ عَلَى ابي جعفر (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) بِكُلِّ حِيلَةٍ فَلَمْ يُمْكِنْهُ فِيهِ شَيْءٌ فَلَمَّا اعْتَلَّ وَأَرَادَ أَنْ يَبْنِيَ عَلَيْهِ ابْنَتَهُ دَفَعَ إِلَى مِائَتَيْ وَصِيفَةٍ مِنْ أَجْمَلِ مَا يَكُونُ إِلَى كُلِّ وَاحِدَةٍ مِنْهُنَّ جَاماً فِيهِ جَوْهَرٌ يَسْتَقْبِلْنَ أَبَا جَعْفَرٍ (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) إِذَا قَعَدَ فِي مَوْضِعِ الاخْيَارِ فَلَمْ يَلْتَفِتْ إِلَيْهِنَّ وَكَانَ رَجُلٌ يُقَالُ لَهُ مُخَارِقٌ صَاحِبُ صَوْتٍ وَعُودٍ وَضَرْبٍ طَوِيلُ اللِّحْيَةِ فَدَعَاهُ الْمَأْمُونُ فَقَالَ يَا أَمِيرَ الْمُؤْمِنِينَ إِنْ كَانَ فِي شَيْءٍ مِنْ أَمْرِ الدُّنْيَا فَأَنَا أَكْفِيكَ أَمْرَهُ فَقَعَدَ بَيْنَ يَدَيْ ابي جعفر (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) فَشَهِقَ مُخَارِقٌ شَهْقَةً اجْتَمَعَ عَلَيْهِ أَهْلُ الدَّارِ وَجَعَلَ يَضْرِبُ بِعُودِهِ وَيُغَنِّي فَلَمَّا فَعَلَ سَاعَةً وَإِذَا أَبُو جَعْفَرٍ لا يَلْتَفِتُ إِلَيْهِ لا يَمِيناً وَلا شِمَالاً ثُمَّ رَفَعَ إِلَيْهِ رَأْسَهُ وَقَالَ اتَّقِ الله يَا ذَا الْعُثْنُونِ قَالَ فَسَقَطَ الْمِضْرَابُ مِنْ يَدِهِ وَالْعُودُ فَلَمْ يَنْتَفِعْ بِيَدَيْهِ إِلَى أَنْ مَاتَ قَالَ فَسَأَلَهُ الْمَأْمُونُ عَنْ حَالِهِ قَالَ لَمَّا صَاحَ بِي أَبُو جَعْفَرٍ فَزِعْتُ فَزْعَةً لا أُفِيقُ مِنْهَا أَبَداً.

1. Ali ibn Muhammad has narrated from certain persons of our people from Muhammad ibn al-Rayyan who has said the following “Al-Ma’mun did all he could to prove that abu Ja‘far, Muhammad ibn Ali al-Rida (a.s.) was only a young man of worldly desires. However Al-Ma’mun could not succeed. When he became frustrated he gave his daughter in marriage to abu Ja‘far, Muhammad ibn Ali al-Rida (a.s.). For the ceremony he sent two hundred most beautiful entertaining girls each with a bowl in her hand with a precious pearl in it to well come abu Ja‘far, Muhammad ibn Ali al-Rida (a.s.) when he would sit on the special seat prepared for him. They, however, were not of any attraction to the Imam (a.s.) to disturb him. There was a man called Mukhariq who had a voice, musical skills, a guitar and a tall beard. Al-Ma’mun called him and he said, “O Amir al-Mu’minin, if he is a worldly man I will prove myself as dealing him deadly blows on your behalf.” He sat in front of abu Ja‘far, Muhammad ibn Ali al-Rida (a.s.) and began to bray a hee-haw that made all the people of the house gather around him. He began to play his guitar and sing. He did it for an hour but abu Ja‘far (a.s.) did not pay any attention to the right or left. Then he (a.s.) raised his head and said, “O you, tall bearded one, be pious before Allah.” The narrator has said that the musical instrument and guitar fell off his hand and he could not use his hands thereafter until he died. When Al-Ma’mun asked him about his condition he said, “When abu Ja‘far (a.s.) expressed his disappointment at me it struck me with a huge degree of fear from which I have not been able to relieve myself ever since.”

Al-Kāfi - Volume 1, The Birth of Abu Ja‘far, Muhammad ibn Ali, the Second (a.s.), Hadith 4
ـ الْحُسَيْنُ بْنُ مُحَمَّدٍ عَنْ مُعَلَّى بْنِ مُحَمَّدٍ عَنْ مُحَمَّدِ بْنِ جُمْهُورٍ عَنْ مُعَمَّرِ بْنِ خَلادٍ قَالَ سَمِعْتُ إِسْمَاعِيلَ بْنَ إِبْرَاهِيمَ يَقُولُ لِلرِّضَا (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) إِنَّ ابْنِي فِي لِسَانِهِ ثِقْلٌ فَأَنَا أَبْعَثُ بِهِ إِلَيْكَ غَداً تَمْسَحُ عَلَى رَأْسِهِ وَتَدْعُو لَهُ فَإِنَّهُ مَوْلاكَ فَقَالَ هُوَ مَوْلَى أَبِي جَعْفَرٍ فَابْعَثْ بِهِ غَداً إِلَيْهِ.

1. Al-Husayn ibn Muhammad has narrated from Mu‘alla ibn Muhammad from Muhammad ibn Jumhur from Mu‘mmar ibn Khallad who has said the following. “I heard ’Isma‘il ibn Ibrahim say to al-rida (a.s.), ‘My son feels heaviness in his tongue. I intend to sent him tomorrow to you. Pass you your hand over his head and pray for him. He is your Mawla (slave).’” The Imam (a.s.) said, “He is a Mawla (slave) of abu Ja’far (a.s.). send him tomorrow to him (abu Ja‘far (a.s.).”

Al-Kāfi - Volume 1, Tacit and Explicit Testimony as proof of abu Ja‘far al-Thani’s (the second) (a.s.) Divine Authority over the people after abu al-Hassan al-Rida (a.s.), Hadith 11
ـ بَعْضُ أَصْحَابِنَا عَنْ مُحَمَّدِ بْنِ عَلِيٍّ عَنْ مُعَاوِيَةَ بْنِ حُكَيْمٍ عَنِ ابْنِ أَبِي نَصْرٍ قَالَ قَالَ لِيَ ابْنُ النَّجَاشِيِّ مَنِ الامَامُ بَعْدَ صَاحِبِكَ فَأَشْتَهِي أَنْ تَسْأَلَهُ حَتَّى أَعْلَمَ فَدَخَلْتُ عَلَى الرِّضَا (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) فَأَخْبَرْتُهُ قَالَ فَقَالَ لِي الامَامُ ابْنِي ثُمَّ قَالَ هَلْ يَتَجَرَّأُ أَحَدٌ أَنْ يَقُولَ ابْنِي وَلَيْسَ لَهُ وَلَدٌ.

One of our people has narrated from Muhammad ibn Ali from Mu‘awiya ibn Hakim from ibn abu Basir who has said the following. “Al-Najashi once asked me, “Who will be the Imam after your master? I wish you ask him so I will know.” I then went to see Ali al-Rida (a.s.) and informed him (of al-Najashi’s wish).” The narrator has said that the Imam said, “The Imam will be my son.” Then he said, “Can any one say that my son will be the Imam when he has no son?”
Al-Kāfi - Volume 1, Tacit and Explicit Testimony as proof of abu Ja‘far al-Thani’s (the second) (a.s.) Divine Authority over the people after abu al-Hassan al-Rida (a.s.), Hadith 5
ـ عِدَّةٌ مِنْ أَصْحَابِنَا عَنْ أَحْمَدَ بْنِ مُحَمَّدٍ عَنْ جَعْفَرِ بْنِ يَحْيَى عَنْ مَالِكِ بْنِ أَشْيَمَ عَنِ الْحُسَيْنِ بْنِ بَشَّارٍ قَالَ كَتَبَ ابْنُ قِيَامَا إِلَى أَبِي الْحَسَنِ (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) كِتَاباً يَقُولُ فِيهِ كَيْفَ تَكُونُ إِمَاماً وَلَيْسَ لَكَ وَلَدٌ فَأَجَابَهُ أَبُو الْحَسَنِ الرِّضَا (عَلَيْهِ السَّلام) شِبْهَ الْمُغْضَبِ وَمَا عَلَّمَكَ أَنَّهُ لا يَكُونُ لِي وَلَدٌ وَالله لا تَمْضِي الايَّامُ وَاللَّيَالِي حَتَّى يَرْزُقَنِيَ الله وَلَداً ذَكَراً يَفْرُقُ بِهِ بَيْنَ الْحَقِّ وَالْبَاطِلِ.

1. A number of our people has narrated from Ahmad ibn Muhammad from Ja’far ibn Yahya from Malik ibn Ashyam from al-Husayn ibn Bashshar who has said the following. “Ibn Qiyaman wrote a letter to abu al-Hassan (a.s.) in which he had said the following. ‘How can you be an Imam when you do not have a son?” Abu al-Hassan al-Rida (a.s.) replied him with signs of anger, “How do you know that I will not have a son? By Allah, not many days and nights will pass before Allah will grant me a male child through who He will make the truth distinct from falsehood.”

Al-Kāfi - Volume 1, Tacit and Explicit Testimony as proof of abu Ja‘far al-Thani’s (the second) (a.s.) Divine Authority over the people after abu al-Hassan al-Rida (a.s.), Hadith 4
Ali ibn Ibrahim has narrated from his father that ’Isma‘il ibn Mihran who has said the following. “When abu Ja‘far left Madina for Baghdad the first time of his two journeys on his leaving I said to him, “May Allah take my souls in service for your cause, I am afraid about you in this condition. To who, after you, will belong the task (Leadership with Divine Authority)?” He turned to me laughing and said, “The disappearance, as have thought, will not take place this year. When he was about to be taken to al-Mu‘tasam (179/795 —became caliph 218/833 — 227/841), for the second time I went to him and said, “May Allah take my souls in service for your cause. You are leaving. To who, after you, will go this task Leadership with Divine Authority)?” He wept until his beard become soaked. He then turned to me and said, “This time you should be afraid about my life. The task (Leadership with Divine Authority) after me will go to my son Ali Al-Kāfi - Volume 1 p323
عَلِيُّ بْنُ إِبْرَاهِيمَ عَنْ أَبِيهِ عَنْ إِسْمَاعِيلَ بْنِ مِهْرَانَ قَالَ: لَمَّا خَرَجَ أَبُو جَعْفَرٍ ع مِنَ الْمَدِينَةِ إِلَى بَغْدَادَ فِي الدَّفْعَةِ الْأُولَى مِنْ خَرْجَتَيْهِ قُلْتُ لَهُ عِنْدَ خُرُوجِهِ جُعِلْتُ فِدَاكَ إِنِّي أَخَافُ عَلَيْكَ فِي هَذَا الْوَجْهِ فَإِلَى مَنِ الْأَمْرُ بَعْدَكَ فَكَرَّ بِوَجْهِهِ إِلَيَّ ضَاحِكاً وَ قَالَ لَيْسَ الْغَيْبَةُ حَيْثُ ظَنَنْتَ فِي هَذِهِ السَّنَةِ فَلَمَّا أُخْرِجَ بِهِ الثَّانِيَةَ إِلَى الْمُعْتَصِمِ صِرْتُ إِلَيْهِ فَقُلْتُ لَهُ جُعِلْتُ فِدَاكَ أَنْتَ خَارِجٌ فَإِلَى مَنْ هَذَا الْأَمْرُ مِنْ بَعْدِكَ فَبَكَى حَتَّى اخْضَلَّتْ لِحْيَتُهُ ثُمَّ الْتَفَتَ إِلَيَّ فَقَالَ عِنْدَ هَذِهِ يُخَافُ عَلَيَّ الْأَمْرُ مِنْ بَعْدِي إِلَى ابْنِي عَلِيٍّ. کافی ج۱ ص ۳۲۳

The False Helper System: The Reality of Alters and the spirit of Mind Control
If you've been pursuing deliverance, you may have heard the term alters and wondered what they are. Put simply, alters are false helpers that we have created to deal with traumas and life in general. How do we create alters? Through an evil spirit called the spirit of mind control, or the octopus spirit. This spirit "helps" us by giving us the power to create alters.
When people go through trauma, especially childhood trauma, they can develop severe mental health problems like PTSD or BPD. Trauma can break our psyche and destroy our natural ability to cope with the problems and issues of life. The evil spirit of mind control wants to help us with that. It does this by giving us the ability to compartmentalize the trauma and push it away from us by creating alters. This is what an alter is, which is a false helper that stands between us and the trauma and keeps it from hurting us. The more alters you create, the more dependent you become on a system to do life. Instead of relying on God, you rely on your system to handle all of lifes issues, even creating alters on the fly to help you with a myriad of situations.
You could look at alters like a spiritual AI program that is operating in the background and managing a trauma or problem by compartmentalizing it for you. When something threatens to bring it to the surface, like a trigger from a person or situation, that false helper arises to "protect" you. You may notice this effect when you feel threatened, that something that is different from you rises up inside of you and defends you. Or when you are dealing with a problem or with stress, that you go into a different mode which feels automated. In this mode or separate track you aren't totally in control and the emotions you feel are often harsh and uncomfortable, but it will get the job done. Some people have multiple of these going on at the same time, some for work, some for relationships, some for making decisions, etc. This is what I call the False Helper System.
What this looks like depends on the person and the traumas involved. An alter can be like wearing a different suit of clothes, or a different mindset, all the way up to a full fledged alternative personality that you interact with in an internal world. Whatever this may look like, it boils down to being a system of false helpers that you use to manage your life. You may be doing this completely unconsciously but the end result is that you aren't ever able to heal or move on from your problems because you are have compartmentalized them and blocked them out, suppressing memories and relying on a system to manage all of it.
This is often why deliverances get to a certain point and stop. That is because while you may have dealt with the sins and curses you haven't addressed the system you created. You are still relying on something other than God to do life which traps you in a web you can never get out of. You may even love and cherish your alters and not want to get rid of them because they keep you company and make you feel better. This is just happiness in slavery because using the alters keeps you enslaved to the spirit of mind control. The alters are his pawns that he uses to control your mind, which is the ultimate goal of this spirit. He uses them to lock you into cycles of sin, guilt, pain, depression, anxiety, fear and torment.
Alters are not a good thing, and they are bent toward evil. If they are conscious they do not want the person to be free of them and they will lie, manipulate, distort, or even work directly with the devil to maintain control. They are also open doors for every kind of evil spirit. A deliverance that doesn't deal with the false helper system will leave open doors for demons to come back in.
So how do you deal with this confusing problem? Number one, by repenting of receiving help from, and being in agreement with the spirit of mind control. Repenting of using the power of this spirit to create alters and managing your life through the false helper system you created. Only then as the head and not the tail can you take authority over the alters, dismiss them and give them to Jesus to be taken away. Relying on anything other than God is idolatry, so you will need to repent of the pride of self reliance and the idolatry of it. Ultimately, creating alters is rebellion against God and that is the sin of witchcraft according to 1 Samuel 15:23.
Get alone with the LORD and pray for Him to reveal the alters you have been depending upon in your life. Think about times of stress and difficulties where you may notice the switching taking place. Write down all of the alters that have been revealed by name, like the work alter, the decision making alter, etc. They may even have their own names, or take your name in a different form. Like if your name is Jim you may have a child alter named "little Jim". Catalogue all of these alters and then come before the LORD with this prayer:
Heavenly Father, I come before your throne in a time of need according to Hebrews 4:16. I admit that I have created a system of control that relies on false helpers to manage my life. I repent of this sin of self-reliance, idolatry and witchcraft. I renounce the spirit of mind control that I gained this power from, and I repent of using this power to create alters. I bring a wall of the blood of Jesus between me and this spirit. I divorce the mind control spirit in the spiritual realm and serve it an eviction notice. I take authority over the spirit of mind control according to Luke 10:19 and I now command you to leave me immediately, you wicked spirit of mind control. I sever all of your tentacles from my life and being and cast them away from me in Jesus name. Go to the pit now and never return in Jesus name. I now bind and break the power of mind control over my life in Jesus name. I repent for using alters to manage my life and break the power of the false helper system over my life in Jesus name.
I now invite the true HELPER, the Holy Spirit, to now take control of my mind and give me the mind of Christ according to 1 Corinthians 2:16. With the authority of Jesus Christ and the blood of Jesus I now dismiss every alter from service (name the alters) and take back the part of my soul they have occupied. As the head and not the tail, I command every alter personality to receive Jesus as their Lord and Savior as I have, and I turn them over to Jesus now for Him to deal with how He sees fit. I break the power of the false helper system over my life and my reliance upon it. Lord GOD cleanse me of all of the effects of these alters on my body, soul and spirit by the blood of Jesus.
I ask now for Jesus to fully inhabit my body as His holy temple, filling every room and chamber of my body with His blood and Spirit. I release every buried memory and trauma to Jesus. I ask Jesus to come personally into every suppressed memory, taking away its power over me and the pain and trauma of it, and to heal my mind completely of all fragmentation. I ask Jesus to unite my heart to fear His name according to Psalm 86:11. Please heal me of all of the effects of fear, anxiety and trauma has had over my life, in Jesus name.
This is a good prayer to get started but often these things are in layers and we have to pursue deliverance long term to get totally free. Changing from relying upon a system to relying upon God isn't easy, but God is here to guide us through that process by His indwelling Spirit through whom God has promised to quicken our mortal bodies in Romans 8:11. Please post testimonies and questions in the comments.
2 Corinthians 3:1 Now the Lord is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty
John 8:36 If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.
1 John 1:7 But if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin.
2 Timothy 1:7 For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.
Ephesians 2:12 But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ

As if in response to his words, the rain began to pour down in torrents. I scanned the area frantically, searching for shelter from the deluge. My eyes landed on a nearby gazebo, its roof providing a semblance of protection from the elements. I pointed it out to Lily and Mark, and without hesitation, we hurried over and huddled together beneath its flimsy shelter.
As we stood there, trying to formulate a plan, I couldn't help but notice the water cascading down from the mountaintop, converging into streams that flowed ominously toward the town below.
"It's going to flood," I stated, my voice trembling with uncertainty. I racked my brain, desperately trying to devise a course of action in the face of impending disaster.
Lily shot me a look of concern, her brows furrowed with worry, while Mark's head whipped around in my direction, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.
"What? How do you know?" Mark demanded, his voice cracking with anxiety.
"Look," I replied, pointing towards the only road leading in and out of the town situated atop the mountain.
As Lily and Mark turned to follow my gaze, their eyes widened in horror. The road had transformed into a raging torrent, resembling more of a waterfall than a thoroughfare.
"Fuck," Mark muttered under his breath, his voice heavy with dread.
"We have to find somewhere elevated, away from the ground," I insisted, scanning our surroundings for potential refuge.
"There!" Lily exclaimed suddenly, pointing towards the Library, which was not far in the distance. Perched on the side of the mountain, it was accessible only via a flight of stairs. Its elevated position promised some degree of safety from the rising waters, and its sturdy roof offered protection from the relentless downpour.
"Okay, let's go!" I declared, breaking into a sprint towards the Library. The building was within reach after just a few minutes of brisk running. As I reached the steps, water cascaded down from above, creating a makeshift waterfall that made the climb treacherous but manageable. Determinedly, I ascended the stairs, each step bringing me closer to safety.
As I reached the top of the stairs and glanced back down, my heart sank at the sight of Lily and Mark still struggling to reach safety. "Let's go! Hurry!" I shouted over the din of the storm, my voice barely audible amidst the howling winds and pounding rain.
Lily dashed towards me with determination, but Mark remained rooted in the spot, paralyzed by fear.
"Mark, come on! Let's go!" I urged, my voice tinged with urgency. But just then, a deafening roar echoed through the valley, freezing us all in our tracks. It was the same roar we'd heard earlier. Still, now it was closer and had a chilling amalgamation of animalistic cries and human-like roars, resonating with an eerie intensity.
Breaking free from the spell of terror, I shouted again, "Come on, Mark! You're almost here!"
As Lily struggled against the rising tide of the cascading water coming down the stairs, I reached out to her, my hand extended in a desperate attempt to pull her to safety. She stumbled, but I managed to grasp her arm and haul her up the rest of the steps.
Glancing down, I saw Mark finally lurch into motion, his movements labored as he fought against the now ankle-deep water. With every step, he seemed to expend what little energy he had left.
"Mark, you can do it! Just a little further!" Lily's voice echoed through the storm, urging him on.
But as Mark neared the stairs, the water flowing down the steps surged with newfound force, threatening to sweep him away. With a burst of adrenaline, he pushed himself forward, his fingers grazing mine for a fleeting moment before the current overwhelmed him.
Helplessly, Lily and I watched as Mark was carried downstream, his screams of terror echoing through the valley. And then, as if summoned by the chaos, a monstrous figure appeared out of the shadows in the street.
Standing tall and menacing amid the storm, it was like something out of a nightmare. A grotesque fusion of man and beast, its black fur matted and patchy, its human-like face contorted into a snarling, canine visage.
As the creature locked eyes with Mark, it lunged forward with terrifying speed, its massive form crashing down upon him in a flurry of claws and fangs. Mark's screams pierced the night air, a haunting symphony of agony and despair that sent shivers down my spine.
Unable to bear the horror unfolding before us, Lily turned away, her face twisted in anguish as she fought back tears. As the creature dragged Mark into the darkness, I felt a cold chill run down my spine, a chilling reminder of the darkness within the heart of the Raven's Nest.
As I watched in horror, the creature tore into Mark's body with savage ferocity, reducing him to nothing more than a bloody mass of flesh. Its eyes met mine for a fleeting moment, sending a chill down my spine as it snatched up what remained of Mark and vanished into the darkness.
With trembling hands, Lily pulled me into the Library and hastily barricaded the door with a bookcase. My mind reeled with shock and disbelief, unable to process the gruesome scene that had just unfolded before my eyes.
"Rory, Rory, snap out of it!" Lily's voice pierced through the fog of my mind, her words a distant echo as I struggled to regain my composure. Her soothing touch and gentle words slowly brought me back to reality, the weight of what had just transpired crashing down upon me like a tidal wave.
I found myself hyperventilating, gasping for air as panic threatened to overwhelm me. Lily held me close, her arms a lifeline amid the chaos, calming my racing heart and guiding me back from the brink of despair.
It wasn't the first time I had experienced such a paralyzing reaction to trauma. The memories of our parents' passing flooded back, the pain and grief still raw after all these years. And now, faced with the brutal reality of Mark's demise, I felt myself slipping into that familiar state of shock once again.
Lily's tears mingled with mine as we huddled on the cold library floor, seeking solace in each other's embrace. The distant sounds of the monster devouring its prey served as a grim reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond our makeshift barricade.
In that moment of despair, all we could do was hold onto each other, finding strength in our shared grief and determination to survive. But deep down, I knew that the nightmare was far from over and that the horrors of the Raven's Nest had only begun.
Lily drifted off into sleep relatively quickly. She needed the rest; despite being twenty-seven, she was still young, and the day's events had taken their toll on her. I couldn't help but reminisce about our childhood memories when I used to affectionately refer to her as "Lil Sister." Those memories brought a sense of comfort amidst the chaos, and as I dwelled on them, I felt myself being pulled into the embrace of sleep.
Before long, I, too, succumbed to exhaustion, the weight of the day finally catching up with me. As I drifted off into slumber, memories of simpler times danced through my mind, mingling with the events of the present in a surreal dreamscape. And as the tendrils of sleep enveloped me, I found solace in the fleeting moments of tranquility amidst the chaos of the Raven's Nest.
I bolted awake at the sound of crashing, instantly alert and searching for Lily in the darkness. My eyes hadn't yet adjusted, so I fumbled in my bag for a flashlight, my heart pounding with anxiety. As the beam of light pierced the darkness, I swept it around the room, desperately seeking any sign of my sister. Then, another crash echoed from the direction of the basement stairs, labeled ominously in the dim light.
Normally, I'd have hesitated to descend into such a foreboding place, but with Lily missing, I had no choice. Slowly, cautiously, I made my way down the stairs, the beam of light casting eerie shadows on the damp walls.
The sound of running water grew louder with each step, and when I rounded the corner, I was met with the sight of the flooded basement. Something stirred in the murky depths, a figure moving in the dim light at the room's far end. My heart raced as I approached, the water sloshing around my ankles with each step. And then, in the faint glow of the flashlight, I saw her: Lily, struggling against an unseen force, her movements frantic and desperate.
I waded through the waist-deep water, my movements sluggish against the pressure, trying to reach Lily as she struggled against something unseen. The rustling and grunting ceased as I pushed forward, the urgency building with each step.
"Lily, what's going on?" I called out, my voice strained with concern.
"Rory?" Lily's voice came from the other end of the room, surprisingly calm.
Finally reaching her, I found Lily hidden behind a stack of boxes, her attention fixed on a metal ammunition box she'd uncovered.
"What the hell are you doing?" I whispered urgently.
"Maybe there's something in here we can use against... whatever the fuck that thing is," Lily replied, her voice tinged with desperation as she attempted to pry the box open, to no avail.
"Bring it upstairs, and maybe we can find something to open it," I suggested in a hushed tone, my nerves on edge as I scanned our surroundings for any sign of danger.
Lily's frustration seemed to dissipate into resignation as she met my gaze. Together, we began to wade back through the flooded basement, our senses heightened by the impending danger. Suddenly, the tranquility of our surroundings shattered as the front door upstairs, our only means of escape out of the building, sounded like it was violently torn from its hinges, the sound echoing through the basement like a harbinger of doom.
The heavy, ominous footsteps of the creature reverberated through the air, accompanied by the unsettling growl of its breath. It was clear that our presence had been detected, and the beast was now descending into the basement, drawing closer with each passing moment. Panic seized me as I realized the gravity of our situation - we were trapped, with nowhere to run and the relentless pursuit of the unknown closing in on us.
"Shh..." I hushed urgently, motioning for Lily to hide behind the boxes with me as the ominous sound of the creature's approach grew nearer. Despite the impending danger, Lily remained fixated on the ammunition box, her determination evident in her efforts to unlock it quietly.
"Stop," I whispered with growing frustration, attempting to draw her attention away from the futile task. However, it seemed as though she was wholly absorbed in her mission, impervious to my attempts to redirect her focus. Desperation gnawed at me as I realized the precariousness of our situation, with the creature closing in and Lily oblivious to the imminent threat, likely due to the shock of the day's events.
The monster's presence in the basement sent a chill down my spine as I peered cautiously from behind the boxes, taking in its imposing figure. Despite the water being waist deep for me, the creature waded through effortlessly, its massive form towering over us. Its keen senses were evident as it sniffed the air, detecting our presence with unsettling accuracy.
As Lily's persistent efforts finally paid off and the box squeaked open, her triumphant expression quickly shifted to one of realization and dread as the monster roared in response. The deafening sound reverberated through the basement, causing me to instinctively cover my ears in a futile attempt to block it out. Amidst the roar, I could discern an underlying tone that chilled me to the core—a human-like cry buried within the beast's primal roar, as if someone were pleading for mercy.
With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I lunged to the side, pulling Lily with me as we narrowly avoided the charging monster. For a moment, I thought we had escaped unharmed, but my relief turned to horror when Lily's scream pierced the air. Glancing down, my heart sank as I witnessed the gruesome sight—her leg had been violently torn from her body, leaving a trail of blood that tainted the water around us, a vivid crimson. The agony etched on her face mirrored the shock and helplessness I felt at that moment.
The sight before me was a nightmare made real. My mind recoiled at the grotesque spectacle unfolding as the monster tore into Lily's severed leg with savage abandon. Blood sprayed in every direction, mingling with the water to create a chilling tableau of horror. Each crunch and tear of flesh echoed in the cramped basement, a grotesque symphony of violence.
For a moment, I was frozen in shock, unable to comprehend the sheer brutality of what I was witnessing. It felt like time had slowed to a crawl, trapping me in this macabre scene of primal savagery. The monster's inhuman appetite seemed insatiable as it devoured Lily's flesh from her forcefully amputated leg, indifferent to her screams of agony as she lay not even fifteen feet away from it, screaming in pain.
As I watched in horrified fascination, a sickening realization dawned on me: we were not dealing with a mere beast but a predator driven by an insatiable hunger for flesh. And if I didn't act fast, Lily wouldn't be the only victim of its ravenous appetite.
With grim determination, I focused on the task at hand. Ignoring the nauseating sight of Lily's mangled leg, I reached for her, gripping her arm tightly. She cried out in pain as I hoisted her out of the water, her screams echoing in the basement.
"Come on, Lily, we need to go," I urged, my voice tinged with urgency. Ignoring the searing pain in her eyes, she nodded weakly, her face contorted in agony.
Together, we staggered towards the stairs, every step a Herculean effort against the overwhelming tide of fear and despair. The monster continued its grisly feast behind us, the sounds of its feasting driving us forward with a renewed sense of urgency.
I stumbled over an unseen obstacle beneath the water's surface, sending Lily and me plunging into the cold, dark depths. The shock of the fall stole my breath, and for a moment, disorientation clouded my senses as we struggled to regain our footing.
Frantically, I reached out in the darkness, my hands grasping for Lily's form as water rushed into my nose and mouth. With a surge of panic, I managed to find her, clutching onto her tightly as we resurfaced, coughing and sputtering.
As we gasped for air, I felt the weight of Lily's body in my arms, and with every ounce of strength I could muster, I began to drag her toward the stairs as she floated.
Struggling to hoist her up, I noticed the severity of Lily's injury more clearly. Her left leg was missing from the knee down, torn off in a gruesome manner. Each time I dragged her up a step, her bloody stump thudded against the hard surface, eliciting agonizing screams from her. Finally, we reached the corner of the stairs, where I adjusted her position to navigate the new angle.
As we turned the corner and I struggled to hoist Lily onto the first step of this new and longer set of stairs, the thunderous approach of the monster echoed through the basement, intensifying with each passing moment. Though I couldn't see it, the sound of its sprinting footsteps through the water and heavy breathing grew louder, signaling its imminent arrival. Fueled by adrenaline, I tugged harder on Lily's collar, the urgency of escape overriding any concerns about her injury. All that mattered now was getting her to safety before the creature reached us.
As we ascended, almost halfway now, I caught sight of the creature turning the corner. Its rapid pace caused it to collide with the wall, the force denting the cement as it rebounded. The sight filled me with a surge of terror, propelling me to pull Lily with renewed urgency. For a moment, she felt weightless in my grasp as I almost dragged her completely up the stairs, driven by sheer determination. Yet, as my grip faltered, I felt her slipping from my hold.
The moisture from the rain and flooding had made my hands slippery. Everything seemed to unfold in agonizing slow motion as Lily tumbled down the stairs, her descent helpless and inevitable. In the blink of an eye, the monster pounced upon her, its ferocious hunger driving it to begin devouring her without hesitation. Frozen at the top of the stairs, I watched in horror, my gaze alternating between the gruesome spectacle unfolding below and my wet, pruned hands, feeling utterly powerless to intervene.
The monster's gaze briefly flickered toward me as if acknowledging my presence for the first time since it began its grisly meal. Another thunderous roar erupted from its throat, prompting me to instinctively cover my ears. Again, I could have sworn I heard a desperate man screaming when the thing roared.
With a surge of adrenaline, I dashed up the final step and slammed the door shut behind me, shutting out the horrifying scene below.
As I fled through the unlit and dark town, I encountered areas still very submerged by the flooding, forcing me to swim through the murky waters in a desperate bid for escape. As I sprinted through the town, the absence of rainfall struck me. How long had it been since the downpour ceased? How long had I been asleep? Time seemed distorted, the day's events blending into a surreal blur. I pressed on, my only focus now: finding a way out of this nightmare.
After what felt like an eternity of navigating through the flooded streets, with every step weighed down by the relentless rainwater, I finally reached the end of the main paved road, where it transitioned into the dirt path leading to the mine—the sole exit out of town. The dark, murky, muddy path stretched ahead, promising a treacherous journey. The thick sludge threatened to swallow any misstep, making each footfall precarious.
As I stood there, catching my breath and surveying the daunting path ahead, the distant echo of the monster's roar pierced the eerie silence. It was a chilling reminder that danger lurked nearby, urging me to push forward despite the obstacles ahead.
By the time I reached Lily's jeep, I had lost both my shoes to the road and was caked in the thick, clinging mud. I swung open the jeep door, my heart racing with the anticipation of escape, only to be met with the realization that I didn't have the key. Frustration boiled over, and I cursed loudly, slamming the door shut in a fit of anger.
Then, a flicker of memory illuminated my mind: Lily's old jeep, a '95 Jeep Wrangler. We had discovered soon after she bought it that, true to its shoddy nature, it could be started with nothing more than a screwdriver in the ignition.
In a frantic search, my eyes darted around the muddy surroundings, desperate for any sign of a tool or implement that could help me start Lily's jeep. The sound of the monster's roar reverberated in the air, closer now, sending shivers down my spine. Every second felt like an eternity as I scoured the area, my heart pounding with fear and adrenaline.
Peering down the muddy road, I spotted the lumbering figure of the monster struggling to ascend. Its massive form sank into the mud with each step, hindering its progress as its feet and hands became mired in the thick, sticky terrain. Relief washed over me as I realized this bought me precious moments, a brief respite in my frantic escape.
I decide to look inside the car as I frantically rummage through the cluttered middle console of the car, my heart pounding against my ribcage. Every second felt like an eternity as I searched desperately for anything that could start the engine. Amidst the chaos of scattered items—a map, an old CD case, a jumble of charging cables—I felt my fingers close around something solid.
Pulling it out, I found a weathered Swiss Army knife, its metal casing worn and scratched from years of use. I unfolded the blade with trembling hands and positioned it carefully within the ignition. The familiar weight of the blade grounded me amid panic as I turned it, hoping against hope that it would work.
The engine sputtered to life after a few tense moments, its roar filling the confined space of the jeep. Relief flooded through me, mingled with uncertainty about what lay ahead. As I glanced up, I caught sight of the approaching monster, its massive form looming closer with each passing second.
With a quick intake of breath, I slammed the car into reverse, the tires spinning in the thick mud before gaining traction. The jeep lurched backward, leaving deep tracks in its wake as I raced away from The Raven's Nest.
The memories of that fateful day haunted me for years, a constant reminder of the horrors that lurked within The Raven's Nest. I tried to seek justice and warn others of the danger lurking in that cursed town, but each attempt fell on deaf ears.
As the years passed, I became increasingly disillusioned with my futile attempts to bring the truth to light. It wasn't that no one believed me; I knew too much. The secrets of The Raven's Nest ran deep, intertwined with the very fabric of the town's existence.
Authorities dismissed my claims as the ramblings of a troubled mind, unwilling or unable to acknowledge the darkness that permeated every corner of that forsaken place. And so, I resigned myself to the fact that some truths were better left buried, that the secrets of The Raven's Nest were meant to remain hidden.
In the quiet moments of solitude, I ponder the events of that harrowing day, eight years distant yet still vivid in my memory. I often wonder about those cameras we had installed, silent sentinels bearing witness to the horrors of The Raven's Nest. Do they still perch in their hidden alcoves, their lenses trained on the dormant secrets within those cursed streets?
The temptation to return, to retrieve that footage and unveil the truth to the world, is a constant tug at the edges of my consciousness. If only I could lay my hands on that evidence, undeniable proof of the malevolent forces that lurk in the shadows. But with each passing thought, a shiver courses down my spine, a reminder of the dread that still clings to the very mention of that forsaken place.
And so, the footage remains abandoned, lost to time and neglect, much like the town itself, swallowed by the unforgiving embrace of the valley. Perhaps some mysteries are best left buried, their secrets guarded by the silent guardians of the past.
I find myself consumed by a profound sense of guilt, particularly regarding Mark's tragic fate. I remember vividly the day we met at the museum, his genuine curiosity and eagerness to explore the town's history. Little did he know the peril that awaited us all. I can't help but feel responsible for leading him into that nightmare. It was a gruesome scene, etched into my memory with agonizing clarity. I watched in horror as the creature pounced on him, its razor-sharp claws tearing through flesh and bone with merciless efficiency. The sound of his screams still echoes in my ears, a chilling symphony of agony that pierces through the silence of my nightmares. At that moment, I was powerless to save him, gripped by a paralyzing terror that rendered me immobile. His death is a burden I carry with me always, a heavy weight that serves as a constant reminder of the price we paid for venturing into the heart of darkness.
I often find myself wondering about our parents' untimely departure, leaving behind a chasm filled with unanswered questions and aching longing. In the quiet of the night, I ponder how they would have reacted to my tale—of Lily's tragic end, of the nightmares we encountered in that desolate town. Would they have believed my words? Would they have comprehended the depth of my sorrow, the burden of guilt for failing to shield their cherished daughter?
In my heart, I carry the weight of my dear sister Lily's untimely demise. Her laughter, warmth, and unwavering spirit are now lost to the darkness that enveloped that cursed town. Each day, I long to see her smile once more, to hear her voice echoing in the halls of our shared memories. Yet, I know she is gone, forever lost to the merciless jaws of that insatiable beast. The memory of her screams, the sight of her torn body, they etch themselves into my soul, a painful reminder of the fragility of life and the cruelty of fate.
Lily's injury and her agonizing screams echo incessantly in the corridors of my mind, haunting me like a relentless specter. The memory of that moment is etched into my consciousness with vivid, excruciating detail—the sight of her torn leg, the gushing crimson of her blood staining the murky waters, and the raw, visceral sound of her screams reverberating through the air. Each time I close my eyes, I am transported back to that harrowing scene, unable to escape the overwhelming sense of helplessness that washed over me. Her pain, her fear, her desperation—all of it lingers like a scar on my soul, a constant reminder of the horrors we endured in that forsaken place.

Prev Royal Road Patreon
Author's Note: There are rather a lot of names that are going to get thrown around here, so I'm including a handy-dandy little cheat sheet here, just to make sure folks know who's who:
Lugh -> RL Luke
Karghol -> Rob
Temur -> Temur
Sylvain -> Arkadi
Chrysta -> Daeva
Shalera -> Kimberly
For those of you who are enjoying the story, it would be a huge help to hop over to Royal Road and comment or read up there. For point of order, Chapter 3 is already up over there, and will be posted here when I drop Chapter 4 on Wednesday. Thanks, guys! Y'all are awesome!
Karghol stepped forward. As Rob, he might be scared, but he'd been the leader of the group for a long time, operating as our main tank across a ton of games, and now, I could see him taking that step again, "Okay, first thing's first. If they're gonna pop us out of this from the outside, then that's not on us, but we've all seen this anime. If they're not coming, then we need to get to the endgame as fast as possible."
"Nope," I shook my head, surprising even myself at how quickly I'd said something.
He turned, "What? I mean, we gotta get out ahead of this."
"In most games, I'd agree, but not here, not in this game. Also, side-point but decision time for everyone: Real names or character names? I can't keep flipping between them. Lugh is what's on my party registry, so I'm sticking with Lugh," It seemed small but wasn't.
I'd learned well enough that giving people all of the information was most often counter-productive at best. Giving people a small, immediate choice was far preferable and got them on the path to understanding better. Temur snorted slightly at the absurdity, "Well, I suppose you can call me either Temur or Temur. Whichever floats your boat."
Several groans came out, and finally, some laughter. I mean, it was a dad joke humor to be sure, but jokes were probably going to become a much more specific thing for us. From there, everyone chose their character names, either because it was simply easier given the nametags in our party rotation, or because they just didn't want everyone to know their real ones. Khargol however, was a slight bit agitated, "Alright, so why not speedrun it?"
"Because speedrunners die and reset constantly."
The slight mirth died out in the room, but Khargol wasn't ready to yield the point, "I've watched you do a no-death run of Dark Souls!"
I nodded, "And do you have any idea how many times I died in that game getting to that level of skill? Look, this isn't Dark Souls. That game has set difficulty levels. Yeah, it's got solid AI, but here? The AI adapts to tactics, and I'm pretty sure the beta test players are about to learn that the hard way."
Everyone was a bit curious at the statement, but it was Shelara who spoke up, "What does that 'adaptive AI' mean?"
I sighed, and took a seat at the head of the table, with Khargol finally sitting down next to me, "It means the AI of the system is learning. Beta testers essentially get to play ahead of the general public to try and stress test the system under actual play conditions. Most usually, they'll try to learn as many exploits as possible, so even if they start out on brand new characters, they'll still be far ahead of the pack, getting gear and coin ahead of others. Assume that the beta testers have watched things like SAO or other 'trapped in a video game' style series, and they're doing the same as Khargol is suggesting. Problem is, that's exactly what a bunch of them already did, and if the AI works like it's supposed to, then it's ready for them.
"For Valorian Saga, one of the biggest selling points was its adaptive AI system, a system that learns. What that means is that the system behind bosses has already learned those exploits from beta testers and has some sort of answer for them, and they're going to run dead into them."
Chrysta sat forward, leaning her elbows on the table, at least in part to show off her biceps, "Well if a speedrun is out of the question, then what do we do instead?"
Shelara cut back in, "But... shouldn't we try and go save the beta testers?"
I considered, "Shelara, in answer to your question, we can't. Even assuming we could catch up to wherever they're at, there's almost no chance they'd listen to us if we did. They're just as likely to assume we're rivals or to think we're idiots, but regardless they won't be following our instructions just because we say so. As far as they're concerned, they already know this game, and we're a bunch of sprouts who are panicking. Even if we could get past that point, we don't know the game like they do, and we're more likely to end up needing saving before we ever get to them.
"As to the other question, Chrysta, what we do now is finish up the starter quests, and then we use our flyers to join the militia."
Every MMO veteran groaned openly. Arkadi especially was annoyed at the concept, "Come on, man, faction-grinding on day two? We're not even out of the gate yet!"
I'd expected this and checked my in-game clock, and swore under my breath. We needed to get moving, with only roughly eighteen minutes of daylight left, "Guys, that's why we need to join the militia. It's safe, and grinding up our faction rep with Valoria opens a lot of doors, not least of which is giving us barracks space to live in free of charge, basic equipment upgrades, and getting coin. That's just the short-term gains. Yeah, not much, but it gives us a foundation. We get the lay of the land, and we build up our strategies. There's another reason though, and it's important."
Khargol nodded, "As militia, we get arrest powers in line with the laws of Farrelston."
"Wait, we'd be cops?" Shelera seemed slightly hyped about the concept.
I nodded, "More or less. We aren't out in the main room right now cause everyone's losing their minds out there. They're all coming to terms with the idea that this place is where they might die, and that breeds desperate reactions. Fourteen million players are split between fifty servers, giving an average server population of... two-hundred-eighty thousand per server give or take for server popularity. Assume maybe one percent of that goes fully around the bend and gets violent, and that gives us two thousand eight hundred violent criminals that just hit the city on this server that have the ability to level up within the system.
"Farrelston has to be a safe space for players to return to, but that can't happen if there isn't order, and that means law enforcement."
One of our newcomers made her presence felt, the elf woman from the cathedral, shaking as she spoke, "I'm Layala. What about my brother?"
Tom... "I don't know. I don't know what happens to those who die in the game. Maybe they wake up, maybe they're just comatose in a hospital somewhere, or maybe they're gone."
I let it sink in for everyone. Layala's eyes fell to the table as she slowly wept. I hate this, but sugarcoating the thing wasn't good for anyone, "All I can work on right now is keeping us all alive. This is a fantasy RPG, so for all I know, there might be another way to get them back, but I don't want to get anyone's hopes up. Anyone who knows someone who didn't respawn, we'll keep a journal of names, to see that they're remembered. We chronicle the dead, and if the opportunity to get them back presents itself, we go all-in on it.
"I know we all have questions... but we can't stay here to answer them all, and I don't have all the answers for you. We need to start moving, and moving now. We've got thirteen people here, our five and the eight we added on. We've got enough people to form a guild when the time comes, so we should start acting like a guild now."
Layala's voice cracked, "I-I nominate Lugh."
I was startled. I've been very game-knowledgeable, but I wasn't the leader type. It was never my role in the group.
"I second the nomination."
Khargol. My head whipped around, "Look, guys, I'm not a leader. I know stuff, that's what I've got. Khargol's the one who leads."
Khargol shook his head, "Not here, not in this game. I'm all good for the tanking, but you're the only one of us who's putting out a plan of attack, and I'm getting more lost by the minute. It sucks dude, and it hurts to admit it to myself, but you're the guy this time."
Nods occurred, and by show of hands, I was almost unanimously elected to command the 'guild', minus my own dissenting vote. Well.... crapbaskets, "Alright, fine. I won't argue it, but we've gotta get a move on. Get the starter quests going, and when we unlock the job change system, we'll work things out from there. Until then, we'll break into three parties, two four-man parties, and one five-man. Khargol, you're in charge of the five-man, Temur and myself are the other party leaders for now. We'll meet at the barracks come sundown. We spread out the neos amongst the three parties so they're all protected, and we get started. Don't do any combat quests alone."
I picked up Shelera for my party's neo, along with Chrysta and Layala, and the parties agreed to meet up in front of the barracks around sunset so we could join up together. We fought the press of bodies in the tavern to get out into the streets and headed off for our quests. I could feel my heart racing a bit, the whole thing feeling like some sort of bad dream, but we would need a minute to get things together, "Okay, let's check everyone's quest logs. Any shareable quests, share them with the group so we can all help out and get rewards. We tackle them from lowest to highest."
We moved through the streets to the first quest, running messages around the city for the heralds. The quest was designed to get new players oriented with the larger city of Farrelston and what factions existed within it. The vast majority of players though, were barely moving, either pressed into the tavern or milling about in front of the cathedral. This was a huge problem, and we were finding clusters of people around, hiding and trying to just deal with the enormity of it all. We were running messages to guards, merchants, and nobles on what was a very low-key questline while watching people crying or raging. Shelera moved up next to me, close to tears herself, "We can't do anything?"
a I halted, and looked around again, and noticed some people who weren't in groups. Solo players who had come in by themselves, the same as you'd see in any MMO, and now they were cut off from the world, friends, family, and no party. Solo players really only existed in MMOs, people who would just fill in the gaps, and otherwise keep to themselves, and it worked in the world of video games. In the real world, though, it wasn't good, "We can do a little."
I jogged over to where a powerfully built Dracon with a sword and shield was balled up on the ground, weeping, purple-scaled head buried in his arms. I knelt down next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder, "Hey, what's your character name?"
The Dracon boy looked up imploringly, his voice quavering, "Umbaar..."
"Hi, Umbaar. I'm Lugh, and these are my friends. Why don't you come with us? You can join our party," I kept my tone even but pleasant.
He nodded sheepishly and accepted the party invite, "My mom's gonna kill me. I wasn't even supposed to be playing the game."
Oh God, no, "How old are you, Umbaar?"
"I'll be fourteen in December."
Due to the nature of the game, the minimum age for Valorian Saga was eighteen. He'd likely gotten access to the rig, and just jumped on, and now he was trapped, "I'm sure right now, your mom's just worried about you, but we'll keep you safe. Come on, we've got quests to do."
The absurdity of our questing was fully growing with each step we took. After running messages, we helped the watch with investigating some local crimes to learn the search system, worked with merchants on trading to get the economy down, and along the way, we found some more solos to fill us out to the party cap of eight. The jobs were immaterial to me, but Shelera and Layala both found comfort in picking up more people, with the latter taking over care of Umbaar. NPCs went about their day's work, and I started to catch on to something, "Hey... is this day... running long to anyone else?"
Games don't use full twenty-four-hour days, using a shorter day and night cycle to give the impression of a world without having to artificially inflate the game to make it feel like a full day. Valorian Saga had, in the videos, been shown to have a twenty-minute day, and twenty-minute night, but as we ran around, it had been far more than twenty minutes now. The sun had barely moved in the sky, which given the rest of the game's level of detail wasn't something they would've ignored. Chrysta spoke up after counting her clock, "Uh... well dearheart, I do believe we've got us a twenty-four cycle now."
There were several possibilities to this, perhaps either our minds changed gear to work with in-game time, or the game had altered to have twenty-four-hour time. Either way, we had no answers for it. I was getting a bit sick of having more and more questions I couldn't answer, but I couldn't focus on it in the here and now. I called a halt, and we found a small corner tavern to get food and drink. I took some time with the menu system and up popped the character status window.
By statistics, we were moving up a bit, but the main stats of our jobs weren't changing very much at all. My basic stats for movement had risen, but not by much, and the gain was tapering off. That was probably from all the walking around the city we were doing. Reputations were going up in the city guilds attached to our quests, but again, they were minor improvements, and the effective XP was tapering off from doing them. I took out my character journal, a system conceit by the devs that the game world was simply too grand in scale to not allow a lot of notetaking, and did stat-math just like when I would spreadsheet my builds at home. From what I could see, the game had no true 'leveling' system. Instead, skills and attributes were built up by how you played, sort of like in Skyrim, but the same actions would not keep getting you the same degree of XP. A common enough point, or else someone could pull a South Park and just merc wolves until they hit the cap. Abilities would unlock as your stats rose, some coming online automatically like Sprint, while others you had to find a trainer for, such as the Double Knock ability for archers. From what I'd seen online, the abilities would unlock advanced jobs, and certain combinations would unlock hybrid jobs, so a Paladin would be a combination of a knight and acolyte. None of the testers had gotten that far, however, they'd just seen the possibility of it.
I noticed Shelera leaning over to look at my journal, and I smiled, "Just doing nerd stuff, plotting my progression to figure out what jobs I need."
She smiled back, "That seems weirdly normal. What are you thinking of doing?"
"Well, for now, I need to move up my abilities as a Hunter, right? Hunter eventually leads to a few choices, so I'm thinking I'll probably go for a Ranger build. That means I can train up Yndress here as a battle companion."
Yndress had been flying about with me, and sometimes resting on my shoulder, and now, she was curled up by my arm on the table as I continued. Shelera reached over and petted Yndress, "That is so cool. She's so warm. I totally should've figured out a way to get the limited edition... so what should I be leveling up?"
"Well, you're a vagabond, so you might look at something like Bounty Hunter since we're working with the militia. Combine that with another job.... huh."
"What?"
Daeva grinned, "Oh, sweetie, he just worked somethin' out. What do you need, Lugh?"
"Give me a minute. I need to go to the scrivener," I shot up and stepped out of the tavern.
It wasn't far to the scrivener where I could buy the supplies I needed. We'd just done an ink delivery there, and now, I would need paper and ink to work with. Returning, I cleared off the tavern table and laid out a large scroll used for maps, currently unmarked, "Okay, I need everyone to bring up your character pages and stand where I can read them."
Gamers generally do have a sense of when someone's worked out an exploit, and this was one of those times. They brought up their screens so I could start marking down abilities, attributes, and skills. Of note, my Scribing ability was ticking slowly upward as I laid things out. Scribing could turn into runic writing and other more arcane and mundane pursuits. What I was working on became a skill tree system, with the various jobs being grouped together. I had to move things around, and in real life, I wouldn't be able to do that with ink, but in the game sense, it was pretty simple. I kept moving around my drawing, finally starting to come into a workable initial system of abilities, jobs, and other things that built off of one another. It looked a bit mad, like if no one had stopped the devs on Path of Exile's skill tree, but it was there, "We're thinking about this wrong. We need to get to the barracks. I don't want to explain this twice."
Banded back up, I stopped by our newest unlock: Carriage Stations. The city was entirely too big to be running around it all the time, and for just half a silver, we could go to any other ward in the city. I signaled the coachman, handing him my flyer, "Take us to the militia barracks."
The coachman nodded sharply, "Right you are, sir."
The coaches held four, so we split between the two, and I rechecked my numbers. I was pretty certain I was right by the math, but these things didn't always pan out like you wanted, so it was best to recheck. It still seemed to be working out like I thought, but I needed Temur for a blind study of it. We got out at the barracks, a building made up of fortified walls and barred windows with internal shutters. Militiamen NPCs were standing guard out front, while we could just see some working in the training yard to the side. From what I could see, however, we were the only players here.
Temur's party arrived first, and apparently, I wasn't the only one picking up strays as two carriages emptied of people. He was running a full party as well now, and grinning in his uniquely Temur way, even if he did have draconic features now, "So, I see we're all taking in the lost little lambs?"
"I mean, sure, why not? That's how we met, so why not do it here, too?"
He nodded, "Questing went well if a bit hum-drum, but you have a look in your eyes that says you've worked something out. You got math time!"
I nodded, "Waiting for... yeah, Khargol went off-road, I see."
Temur and I had shown up with two carriages each, only for Khargol to pull up with four, all packed. That put our new numbers at thirty-two players as he practically bounced up to us, "What?!"
We both shook our heads, "Nothing, man. Never change. I've got some news for everyone."
The full mass moved over to the side of the building so we weren't obstructing the entrance, "Party people, I worked something out at lunch."
I rolled out my map of the skills tree, "Okay, so I was going over my character screen, and did some math. I know what we need to do: We need to move up on every job."
Khargol shook his head, "Isn't that gonna leave us as jacks of all trades? We'd be running pretty average."
I gestured with my hands a bit in dismissal, "Usually, you're right, but here, it's different. The stats aren't really separated here, they're intended for cross-classing, and it's not just the combat jobs. I moved up a bit at Scribing here, and it looks like it'll be the same for crafting and gathering jobs. Move up in X, Y, and/or Z jobs and you unlock a hybrid. So like, say you move up as a blacksmith, armorer, and weaponsmith. All three have abilities building into one another, and that can unlock further abilities, other jobs, and a whole classification of things we can't see yet.
"Using abilities works up the stats associated with that ability, and the higher the ability, the more XP it generates for the stats. Those stats still stay there when you do a job change, so you could be a Gladiator working up strength by working the forge."
Shelera looked over the drawing, "Okay, so you think if we take every job up, then that'll make us a lot stronger? But won't we end up with a bunch of useless stats?"
I shook my head, "No, for two primary reasons. For one, what if instead of Paladin, you went something like a Hexblade in D&D terms? Or, Shelera, you take Bounty Hunter, then build up your hunter job to Scout, and you have something akin to a Justicar class? Or Khargol, what if you master every weapon group?"
Temur's interest was peaked at the mention of Hexblade, "And what is the second reason?"
I sucked in a breath, "It's a job change system. There's a job change skill, and every basic skill I've seen has upgrades, even if I can't see the end of the trees yet. The adaptive AI is going to adapt to our individual tactics, but even if all of us were playing hunters, we'd all approach hunting differently, maybe more reliant on archery, snares, or pets. It would force the AI to keep readapting its own tactics on the fly. If we build up, we might just be able to get to something better than the sum of our parts."
Karghol nodded, "And that makes it doubly important we get going on the militia stuff. Shall we?"
The lot of us went over to the barracks, where a guard greeted us at the door, "Hold, citizens. What is your business with the thirteenth Valorian militia?"
I stepped forward, "We're here to enlist for service."
The guard perked right up, "Ah, good. Greetings and well met! I am Sergeant-at-Arms Brant. We are in need of stalwart folk to help protect Farrelston and wider Valoria in these trying times. Dark things are afoot both at home and afar, and it speaks well of you that you would choose service. Please, enter the hall, and register yourselves with Yeoman Granger. Welcome once again, may the purple dragon fly eternal!"
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